


And They Were Soulmates

by t_3po



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Drama & Romance, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Romance, Star Trek: AOS, Tarsus IV, accidental bonding because they held hands that one (1) time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:20:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t_3po/pseuds/t_3po
Summary: First Officer Jim Kirk of the USS Enterprise beams down an unfamiliar planet for a rescue mission and comes out of the fight with an unexpected, unwelcome, and unbreakable bond to one of the locals.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Supposed to be a one-shot but it got too long so I chopped it up. Alternative title is: the soulmate thing should be easy but Jim makes it hard for everyone.

Pike, damn him, actually has the gall to laugh in Jim’s face upon hearing the news. “It isn’t funny,” Jim snaps, ranks be damned. He’s exhausted and bleeding somewhat from a few minor injuries and the twanging pain in his right wrist tells him it’s broken; he doesn’t deserve to be mocked right now, not when he feels like shit and like he’s about to lose his mind. He’s positive no one was ever as stupid as him to get stuck in a situation like this.

 

The amusement remains in Pike’s eyes. His smile is all teeth. It makes Jim want to put a fist to his mouth. “You know in old times,” Pike starts, and Jim closes his eyes, huffs, and braces himself, “I mean in ancient times, men who won wars often claimed wives so—” He breaks off and starts laughing again.

 

“It just happened,” Jim argues, face flushing with embarrassment. “It _isn’t_ funny, okay. And I didn’t claim anyone.”

 

“Ah come on, Jim, it isn’t every day I beam my first officer down an unfamiliar planet and find out he just got married.” His smile fades a little when he sees the helplessness on Jim’s face. “Fine, let’s see your new wife then.”

 

“Husband,” Jim corrects, the word sounding alien on his tongue. “I have a husband.”

 

* * *

 

They don't know much about Vulcan. Until today, it wasn't an official member of the Federation. It was welcoming enough to members of the Federation and there were a few ‘exceptionally intelligent’ humans who'd been there by invitation, but Vulcan never helped in any of Starfleet's missions, believing that Starfleet was a military organization which went against their teachings. The board however coveted its alliance and the locals' natural prowess in the field of science for years so they never gave up trying to court the Vulcan government into allying with them, and every year there would be a short message of rejection from the Vulcans. They were firm in saying they would take no part in joining the Federation.

 

Until today. Until they received a distress signal from Vulcan and Starfleet sent two of their best ships to fight off the Romulans bombing the city of ShiKahhr. Jim was one of the hundreds who beamed down to defend the locals.

 

He’s also the only who came out of the fight unharmed and bounded to a local by an accidental marriage.

 

"A bond," was what the Vulcan priestess told him. "A mating bond."

 

Jim thinks it’s madness; all he did was hold the guy's hand. They were running away from something—from what, Jim can't recall as his memories of the fight are all fire and blood and the smell of death—and Jim had grabbed the person who’d stumbled beside him to guide him to a path that he deemed safe.

 

And then, he'd felt it, a strange sensation in his head like something had settled in his thoughts, and there was a low thrumming between his and the stranger's hand. The local had looked at him with horror and wonder in his eyes which told Jim he'd done something very, very wrong indeed.

 

The stranger had immediately dragged him to an area where other Vulcans were already gathered, hand still holding tightly to Jim's. "Father," he'd said in a shocked voice to an older Vulcan who’d risen to approach them, "He _bonded_ with me." And as soon as he said that, all of Jim's protests about needing to go back to the rescue mission died and were replaced with, "I did what???"

 

It was a mess and probably a funny story. Only as it turns out, some stories are only funny if they're not about you.

 

He hasn't seen his supposed husband since then. There was a large wound on his leg that the Vulcans said needed to be healed immediately and they'd immediately whisked him off to see a healer, leaving Jim in the hands of a father who, were he human, would have probably sent Jim to an early grave with his anger.

 

Because he was Vulcan, he got a stern talking to instead.

 

"Is it really binding?" Pike asks as they make their way to the tents the Vulcans had set up as a makeshift hospital. Many of the city's buildings got damaged by the fighting, rooms too filled with smoke to do any of the injured any good. His…husband is in one of them although which one, Jim isn't sure.

 

 _Here_ , the strange presence in his mind whispers, _he's here_.

 

Jim grits his teeth at the unfamiliar feeling. _Get out of my head_ , he thinks. But even as he thinks it a part of him protests at his harshness towards the other end of the bond and Jim finds himself moving forward, closer to where his mate is.

 

Jim leads Pike to one of the bigger tents. It’s heavily guarded by a wall of Vulcans holding axe-like weapons. They part for Jim and Jim can feel their curious gazes follow him. No doubt news has spread about Jim’s latest fuck up. He doesn’t think Vulcans are wont to gossip, but if he correctly understood what the Vulcan priestess was telling him a while ago, he’s supposedly done something legendary in Vulcan culture.

 

Jim isn’t sure what to feel about it. He held someone’s hand and all of a sudden, he’s a legend. When he said he wanted to become as famous as his deceased father, he didn’t mean like _this_.

 

"It’s binding. It's what they told me."

 

"Could be they're lying."

 

"They don't have a reason to," Jim tells Pike. "No one seems to be happy with this arrangement."

 

Least of all his husband's father. Or the Vulcan high council. Pike mentioned to him during their brief on the way to Vulcan that Vulcans are a proud and prickly race. High-born is what Jim learned from the other Vulcans. His partner comes from a high-born family, and that although Vulcans no longer have a monarchial form of government, his blood is the blood of ancient warrior kings. His accidental marriage strengthens their new and still shaky alliance with Vulcan but the Vulcans from the council seem to find it a bit of a slight that one of their own married so low.

 

Which to be honest, is extremely insulting but Jim tried not to lose his temper in their presence.

 

The tent is filled with Vulcans and humans alike but Jim relies on the strange presence in his mind to guide him. He finds his new husband easily, seated on a chair with a PADD in one hand, his left leg propped on a chair across him. Bones is the one tending to his wounded leg, much to Jim's surprise. He looks up when they approach, grinning wryly at Jim. Bones is the first person he blurted out the news to, and Jim instantly regrets it upon seeing the mischief on Bones’ face. "He's all fixed, Jim," his friend announces with a flourish of his hand, like he’s presenting his patient like a gift. The movement earns him a bemused look from his Vulcan patient.

 

Jim steals a quick look at his husband but finds himself scanning for injuries. There’s an ugly bruise on his temple that makes Jim frown, concern and anger suddenly rising in him. He wonders if there’s any ice around for him to press it against his husband’s injury and if he’ll allow him to hold him and—

 

Jim blinks, startled by his thoughts. _He’s a stranger, Jim, you don’t know him._

The man is looking at him.

 

Pike steps forward and offers a gesture that Jim guesses must be the proper Vulcan way of saying ‘hello’. "I'm Captain Pike of the USS Enterprise," he says by way of greeting. "I'd like to know the name of the man who wed my first officer without my knowledge."

 

"I am Spock." His eyes flick to Jim's then back to Pike’s. "We are bonded, not married."

 

"It's the same though, isn't it? And since your planet's part of the Federation now, I'm afraid we'll have to recognize your marriage in Jim's records." This last he directs to Jim with a bleak smile. His smile says it all. Even if a possibility to dissolve his bond with the Vulcan exists, the Federation will make it his duty to keep it. Anything to please their new allies.

 

"It has been recorded in my House as well." Spock doesn't sound put off by the fact that he bonded with a complete stranger, nor does he sound pleased. He keeps eyeing Jim with a curiosity that makes Jim want to blush and run away from that intense gaze. He holds his ground but he can’t hold Spock’s gaze.

 

"Starfleet assigned us to stay here for a week at least to discuss defense and help rebuild the city," Pike tells him. "You can get to know Jim until then."

 

"For now I must be with my family. My…my mate may join me later," Spock says. He rises—and stumbles a bit because of his still healing leg. Jim’s reflexes catch up; his hand darts out to grab Spock’s shoulder and steady him. Spock blinks, eyes on Jim's hand.

 

"Thank you," he says but it sounds like a question, like he's not entirely sure why Jim did that. He gives Jim one last curious look before he heads off to a group of older Vulcans. Jim recognizes Spock’s father among them and he immediately turns away before the man can meet his eyes.

 

Pike claps him on the shoulder. The amusement is completely gone from his face and he looks genuinely sorry for him. Somehow, the pity is worse. "Well. You could do so much worse, Jim. At least…hey at least he's good-looking."

 

His new husband _is_ quite attractive, Jim has to concede to that, and where it different, say if Jim had chanced upon him in a bar instead of a war zone then, Jim definitely wouldn't have hesitated to hit on him and take him home for a night. But marriage is different from a one-night stand. Jim's never been good at long term relationships—he hasn't even had a partner who's lasted more than five months, always going with the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em route. And somehow _he's_ the one who ended up with an accidental marriage, a lifelong marriage he can never break out of.

 

That’s not even the worst part. It’s the bond itself, the knowledge that his thoughts are no longer his own, that his new husband would have access to his memories of—

 

Jim shudders inwardly.

 

"I say it's a terrible match. Jim and someone who's as stoic and emotional as a computer?" Bones snorts. "We don't even know much about Vulcans, my tricorders are crying trying to figure out their anatomy and bloodwork and that one was even more complicated. The blast from that Romulan phaser is hard enough to fix but your _husband_ nearly broke my tricorder when I scanned for infections."

 

That peaks Jim's interest. "How come?"

 

"Well it's not his royal blood or whatever it is that makes him more important than other Vulcans. Nah your new husband's a hybrid. Half-human."

 

A half-human Vulcan. Jim’s never encountered one. Well, he’s never really encountered Vulcans in person before until today, but from what he knows about xenobiology, hybrids are extremely rare.

 

"Then that gives Jim an advantage."

 

Jim raises an eyebrow at Pike. "I mean, at least he's part human so you'll be able to know him easier. You have that in common at least.” He pats Jim on the shoulder again. “I’m just trying to make you feel better, kid. I’m sure it will be fine once you get to know him.”

 

“Yeah, Jim says, not truly believing it. “I suppose.”

 

* * *

 

They are arguing again. It seems illogical to continue arguing about things they've already gone over multiple times with no resolution but Spock keeps his mouth shut. He’s good at keeping quiet. His opinion has never mattered in the council, even now despite the fact that the fighting is about _him_.

 

"It's a t'hy'la bond," T'Mak says, silencing the others. "We must respect it."

 

"He's human—"

 

"Only seems fitting that Spock would bond with a human as he has the blood of a human." Silon sends a distasteful glare at Spock and his father. He's the one who likes Spock the least, the one who thinks him an abomination. He’s never said it directly out of respect for his father’s House but Spock grew up to his disapproval of Spock’s existence. Strange that Surak’s teachings instruct Vulcans to keep their faces a blank mask at all times, yet Spock’s familiar with glares of disdain and contempt directed at him.

 

"The council wished to know more about humankind hence I bonded with one as was my duty. My son is only one of the many evidences that I did my responsibility," Sarek counters. Spock’s heard his father’s reasoning for keeping him thousands of times before so Spock isn’t as fazed by it as he was when he was a child. His mother told him many times that his father acts cold towards him for his own safety and while Spock does have moments of doubts about his father’s affection for him, he has none when it comes to Sarek wanting to keep him alive. More than half of the council members did not want him to be born.

 

"Nevertheless, it is unacceptable a bond that has not been seen since the time of Surak has been blessed to a hybrid and a human," Silon continues. There are murmurs of assent. Spock keeps his head down and pushes down his growing anger. His human side is warring with his Vulcan one. It always happens here, like they’re purposefully trying to illicit an emotional response from him. So far, Spock has yet to fail, but the recent invasion and his new bond are testing his controls. He’s barely holding on to the block he’s put between his part of the bond and his new mate’s. Spock wishes he could remove it already.

 

His new mate is anxious around him, unwilling to be bonded, so Spock put the mental barrier up shortly after they saw each other in the medics’ tent. Spock doesn’t blame him. The bond shocked him as well but Spock was raised Vulcan, ready to immediately accept what cannot be changed. His mate is only a human with a mind untrained to Vulcan discipline and one naturally prone to illogical thoughts and actions. Spock is ready to forgive his mate for that, for anything, to be honest.

 

He has a _t’hy’la bond_. What Vulcan child hasn’t dreamed of the perfect mental compatibility with a mate? A bond so strong it would form upon first contact with his destined mate, a bond so rare that only a handful of Vulcans in recorded history have ever experienced it. And Spock is one of them.

 

They are jealous, he knows. The Vulcan council, his peers who endlessly belittled him…Spock has never had anyone become jealous of him. That he’s the object of envy secretly thrills him. He ought to be ashamed but even the Vulcan side that usually wars with his human side is pleased for acquiring the perfect mate without trouble.

 

"This bond disgraces my daughter," T'Kuv adds, bringing Spock away from his thoughts. T'Pring isn't in the council room and for that Spock is grateful. There is a fire in T’Kuv’s eyes that makes the hair on the back of Spock’s neck prick up. Their House has always been proud. Too proud, perhaps. And ambitious. "I want it removed."

 

"It would endanger both the human and Spock," T’Pau speaks, silencing everyone. T’Kuv’s jaw tightens but she relents. "We can do nothing about it. _Kaiidth_."

 

The argument moves from the bond to the new alliance with the Federation and Spock quietly slips out of the tent.

 

Outside, T'Pring is waiting for him.

 

"Congratulations,” she says. There’s no mockery in her voice, no trace of envy either and Spock almost dismisses the lack of emotion as adherence to Vulcan discipline when he finds the relief in her eyes.

 

“You are free to bond with Stonn now,” Spock surmises. He’s seen the way he looks at her and how she responds to his academic rival. Stonn’s own promised mate was killed in the fighting, although Stonn has yet to show any signs of grief. He never did care for T’Mala, much like how Spock and T’Pring have never cared for each other.

 

“Our minds are compatible,” T’Pring admits. “But we will not bond until Stonn’s time is upon him”.  She glances at the tent where the council is. “My House is displeased with your bond.”

 

Furiously angry, calling for blood. Spock easily translates her words, remembering T’Kuv’s rage. If T’Pring is openly admitting that her relatives aren’t happy with Spock’s bond then it can only mean he truly is in danger unless he finds a way to appease them. Vulcan logic doesn’t fully stop the warrior’s blood, only controls it. “It cannot be changed,” Spock says.

 

“No, it cannot. But there are many who still doubt the validity of your bond with this human. And many more from other cities who would be honored to witness a wedding between t’hy’la.” She touches his arm, much to Spock’s surprise. T’Pring has never done that, not even when they were children and had no idea that they would grow up wanting anyone but each other. “You must have a ceremony with your human. A proper Vulcan wedding with many witnesses. My family will do you no harm if your bond earns the respect of many.”

 

He can feel her fingernails digging into his skin. Her face is still the same cool mask but Spock can sense the desperation in her grip. _Free us._ Breaking a bond between t’hy’la is taboo and there’s only a three percent survival rate but T’Pring’s House has always wanted to be associated with his own. If there is even a small chance to undo Spock’s bond and bind Spock to T’Pring, Spock has no doubt her family will do it.

 

And yet, forcing a wedding on his mate, an unnecessary wedding on Jim’s part, would make his already untrusting mate shy away from the bond even more. Spock needs Jim to trust him.

 

Gently, he removes T’Pring’s hand from his arm. “I must talk to my mate about this.”

 

* * *

 

It’s still early when the young man comes to him the next day. “Gates, stop that you’re frightening the boy,” Pike barks at the nervous ensign who’d immediately raised a phaser at the approaching figure. The Vulcan only raises his eyebrow when Gates lowers the weapon and mumbles an apology. The Vulcans seem to do that a lot. Pike wonders if it’s an inborn trait.

 

“I am Vulcan, we do not get frightened,” Spock says to him. It’s like something his son would say. _He’s so young,_ Pike thinks again. He seems to be as old as Jim but with Vulcan aging and Spock’s own unique hybrid status, Pike can’t tell if he’s also in his early twenties in Terran years. _Maybe he’s even younger than that,_ Pike thinks when he catches Spock looking at the Enterprise with undisguised wonder, something the other Vulcans never showed when they saw the starship.

 

“You’re looking for Jim, aren’t you?” Spock nods. “He’ll be down here in a bit, I asked him to beam down with me but he’s never been an early riser.”

 

It’s a lie and Pike wonders if Spock caught on to it. It isn’t like Jim to be late, but the kid was restless all day long, pacing up and down the rec room, moaning about his unwanted bond to the senior crew. Bones had to inject him with a hypo to get him to sleep.

 

Ten minutes pass. Pike frowns and pulls his communicator out to call Jim when Spock tenses and turns to the spot where Jim starts to materialize. He looks like hell, hair a mess and bags under his eyes. He raises a hand to greet Pike then freezes when he sees Spock standing beside him. Jim pales, mouth falling open a bit.

 

He looks ready to bolt.

 

“Jim,” Spock says, stepping forward. “We must talk.”

 

Jim’s eyes find his. _Help me._ But Pike shakes his head. He’s always ready to help Jim, treating the boy more like a second son than his young and brash first officer, but he can’t help him now.

 

 _Sorry Jim,_ he thinks as he moves away from them, ignoring the look of betrayal that crosses Jim’s face. _You’re on your own with this one._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Enterprise here isn't doing the five-year mission yet and civilians are allowed to board for missions that last less than six months

It's awkward. Or maybe it's just Jim making it awkward. He wonders if the other few Vulcans who got t'hy'la bonds felt as unprepared and out of place as he feels right now. Probably not, they _were_ Vulcans after all.

 

Every fairy tale, every love story about soulmates Jim grew up hearing has told him that the soulmate thing is easy and natural. It isn't. He's entirely out of his depth here and Jim hates it.

 

"Jim."

 

Spock's watching him calmly, seemingly unaware of Jim's distress. Standing before Spock—Spock with his slim, dark Vulcan tunic, neatly brushed hair, and the lack of bags under his brown eyes—Jim feels like a complete mess. It’s a little unfair. He ought to have had some warning that Spock was just going to suddenly meet him at 0615 hours. He would have combed his hair at least.

 

This is the first time Jim's had the chance to actually have a proper look at his mate without anyone around. He's as tall as Jim, slender like most Vulcans but with less austere facial features that Jim guesses must be due to his human heritage. He'd almost pass for human but his ears, eyebrows, and the sallowness of his skin give him away.

 

 _At least he's good-looking_ , Pike's voice echoes in his head. He is; Jim doesn't exactly have a type but Spock hits all of his interests and his eyes keep darting to Spock's sweetly-shaped mouth, wondering what it would feel like against his, what he _tastes_ like.

 

Jim wants to kiss him and he hates that he wants to because he shouldn't want to kiss a stranger so badly, especially an alien from an unfamiliar race that Jim knows abhors physical contact. The universe must be laughing at the pair of them.

 

Spock, despite being of a race widely known for their logic, seems blissfully unaware that they make a terrible match.

 

He extends his right hand at Jim, two fingers stretched out. Jim blinks then mirrors him. "You desire a kiss," Spock says, matter-of-fact and Jim cringes a bit at being exposed. "This is the only accept public display of affection among Vulcans."

 

He touches their fingers together, lightly caressing Jim's and suddenly, Jim feels calm descend upon him, last night's anxiety immediately fading at the touch of Spock's slightly coarse skin against his. He traces the back of Spock's hand with his fingers then checks Spock's reaction. Jim almost thinks he's unaffected by it until he sees that the tips of Spock's ears have turned a bit green.

 

He's _blushing_.

 

"I put a barrier between our minds out of respect for your privacy but I miscalculated the intensity of its effects on you and did not take your complete lack of experience with Vulcan telepathy into consideration," Spock explains as he withdraws his hand. Jim's fingers twitch at the loss of contact. "Your mind is untrained and feeling lost without mine so your body is desiring physical contact with me as a replacement for the blocked bond. I can remove it if you wish."

 

"Can you read my thoughts if you unblock it?"

 

"Yes." Jim flinches at that but Spock puts his hand up, signaling that he isn't finished explaining yet. "To an extent. I can sense your emotions and know what your thought patterns are but I cannot fully read what you are thinking if you do not cooperate with me. In time perhaps we will be able to navigate each other’s minds with ease."

 

"I'd like it to stay for a bit. The block I mean, but..." It's probably too much to ask for Spock but Spock's presence in his mind is making him agitated. But with the bond blocked, he wants to keep touching Spock. Still, keeping it blocked seems like a better option than letting Spock have any chance of seeing his childhood memories. He’s not ready for that yet; hell he doesn’t think he’ll ever be ready showing that to anyone. His therapists after Tarsus almost gave up on him.

 

He bites his lip. "You're not creeped out by this? Me wanting to touch you I mean I thought you guys don't like physical contact very much."

 

"We do not welcome physical contact as we are touch telepaths but you are my t'hy'la and a mate's touch is always welcome.

 

"However, I did not come here for that alone," Spock says. His face doesn't change from the aloof Vulcan mask but somehow Jim can tell he's nervous. He moves without really thinking about it, extending his hand. Spock stares at him, ears flushing green once more, then slides his hand into Jim's.

 

 _This is how I got bonded to you_ , Jim thinks looking at their entwined fingers. The corner of Spock's mouth twitches into a nearly imperceptible smile.

 

"I request a marriage ceremony between us."

 

Whatever he was expecting from the visit, it certainly isn't that. His mind immediately jumps to Pike's wedding three years ago, and automatically grimaces at the memory of white lace and flower arrangements and napkins folded strategically into swans. Pike was ecstatic, though. "I—isn't that unnecessary?" Jim asks. "I mean we're already Vulcan married so why have a party?"

 

"Tradition," Spock explains and Jim mentally rolls his eyes. Vulcan tradition’s what got him stuck in this situation. That and destiny apparently, but Jim’s still unwilling to buy that one. "There is more but." He pauses, eyes moving somewhere behind Jim. Jim turns around to see what caught Spock's attention. Some members of the crew have already beamed down. Chekov is among them, tricorder in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other. He spots Jim and looks ready to approach him when he catches sight of Spock, freezing in place. Jim shakes his head at him.

 

"We should go somewhere more private, huh?"

 

"Yes but you have your duties."

 

Jim shrugs. "I'm on light duty for 'emotional instability'." Post-wedding nerves is what Bones called it. Pike was understanding and spread most of Jim's duties to other officers. Being given light duties for the duration of their stay wasn’t just an act of fondness, however. They received a message from the Vulcan Council that Jim’s required to spend a majority of his time here on Vulcan with his husband, learning the ways of Spock's family. _Whatever keeps their pointed ears happy_ , was what Admiral Takeshi told Jim when they contacted him about what happened on Vulcan. _We need that Vulcan technology if we want to improve our defenses and they have more information about the Romulans than we do. They still have the chance to break out of Federation alliance before the annual conference, so you're going to do everything to please that little alien husband of yours to make sure they won't withdraw. Do your_ duty _, Jim._

 

 _Marriage shouldn't be a duty_. But Jim bit down on his words and said nothing.

 

Does Spock know about that? Probably not, if his claim that he can't read Jim's memories is true. Jim pokes around in his mind, trying to find Spock. He's still there but very faint, like someone's perfume lingering long after they'd left a room.

 

"We will go to my house," Spock tells him.

 

 

The house is actually a dome-shaped building a little outside the city center. It's thrice as big as the other Vulcan houses Jim saw but looks pretty much the same outside—round, brown, with square windows cut into it. The only thing aside from its size that makes it stand out from the rest of the hill-like buildings is the extremely lush garden in what Jim thinks might be considered a front yard in Terran standards. None of the plants are familiar to him but they look pretty enough. Sulu would enjoy them.

 

It's even larger inside. The most notable thing about it is that the house goes down instead of up. “Vulcan houses are built this way to avoid the worst of the dessert storms” Spock explains. He orders the house's computer system to adjust the temperature for Jim's sake. Cool air washes over them and Jim lets out a pleased sigh. Vulcan is quite possibly the hottest planet he's ever been to and without Bones sinking hypos into crew members' necks before they beam down, Jim doesn't think they'd survive it long.

 

“Are we the only ones here?” Jim asks just as a large bear-like creature shuffles inside the living area, plopping down near the coffee table. It’s _huge_ with sharp fangs half as long as Jim’s arm and Jim instinctively whips his phaser out only to be stopped by Spock who quickly moves between Jim and the creature. “Jim, no,” he says, eyes wide in alarm. The creature only raises its head to look at Jim with what might be a bored expression.

 

“This is my sehlat, I-Chaya. They are domestic pets in Vulcan. He will not harm you.”

 

 _Oh_. He feels a little bad about almost shooting Spock’s pet. Jim looks at I-Chaya’s sharp fangs and wonders what Vulcans’ definition of harmless domestic pets is exactly. Then again, there _are_ some humans back on Earth who take care of scorpions and snakes and he’d kept a pet tarantula once so Jim doesn’t have the right to judge.

 

“Are you the only one here? Where’s your dad? Your mom? Um, do you have any siblings?”

 

They’re things anyone should know about their spouse before marrying them. He’s reminded again that he doesn’t truly know Spock or anything about him. Spock doesn’t seem bothered by his bumbling. He takes a seat on a plush sofa, inviting Jim to sit with him. Habit makes him look at the state of the furniture but he finds no trace of damage. No food stains, no scuffs, no marks on the surface of the table made during childhood. There are no family portraits on the walls either. The house does appear to lack a domestic touch and Jim wonders if all Vulcan houses are as cold and impersonal as Spock’s. He hopes it’s really like that. The thought of Spock being alone and not having a welcoming home doesn’t sit well with him.

 

“My father is currently with the council. He does not stay here often.” Jim relaxes at that and it must show because Spock’s mouth does that little twitch again which Jim thinks might be his version of a full-on grin. His conversation with Sarek yesterday was…unpleasant and he’s not looking forward to seeing him again, although Jim knows he’ll never be able to avoid him.  “As for siblings I have a half-brother seven years older than I but…” Spock’s brows furrow. “I have not seen Sybok in person since I passed my _kahs-wan_. He sends messages about his whereabouts but they are infrequent.”

 

“Ah I can relate a bit. I’m not close to my older brother either.” _Not after Tarsus, not after Sam ran away when Jim got back battered and broken._ It took years to find Sam again and by then Jim was already a cadet in Starfleet, Sam a scientist in a planet lightyears away and when they’d contacted each other for the first time in years they found that they both grew up into strangers. Jim still calls him from time to time because he’s still his brother but it’s more because of familial duty, and a part of Jim still rages at Sam for leaving. _Why did you run away, why did you leave me with mom, why didn’t you_ protect _me_.

 

So no, the Kirk brothers don’t get along too well.

 

“How about your mom?” Of Spock’s family, she’s the one he wants to meet the most. She knows how to deal with Vulcans—she married one willingly and she raised Spock so she’ll be able to tell him things he’s not willing to ask Spock yet. There’s no way he’s going to ask Sarek about his husband, not when Sarek keeps looking at him like he’s something very unpleasant stuck to the bottom of his boot.

 

“My mother passed away from a miscarriage two years ago. The baby did not live either,” Spock says quietly, crushing Jim’s hope of seeking advice from her. There’s a hint of sadness in his words and Jim can feel it in his mind despite the blocked bond. _Comfort him you idiot_ , a voice that sounds strangely like Pike yells at him. He shuffles closer and starts to slide his arm around Spock’s shoulders when he’s suddenly shoved off the sofa. He falls flat on his ass, one arm still stupidly reaching out to where Spock is seated.

 

I-Chaya’s squeezed himself in his seat and has rested his head in Spock’s lap. The sehlat’s tail swishes and swats Jim’s face none too gently. I _comfort him, not you_. Jim glares at the creature who only glares back, even pulling its lips back in a silent snarl. “I apologize,” says Spock somewhere beneath all that fur. He squirms his way out and helps Jim up. “He was my father’s before he was passed to me. I-Chaya believes I’m his young and has always been protective of me. An illogical belief on his part but sehlats aren’t known for being logical creatures.”

 

_Jealous creatures probably._

 

“So.” Jim clears his throat and brushes off his wounded pride. I-Chaya’s closed his eyes but his tail swishes to-and-fro like a cat ready to pounce. Jim puts a little bit more distance between them. “About the marriage thing. I mean, wedding since we’re already kind of married.”

 

“Bonded,” Spock corrects. “We are the first pair in centuries to form a t’hy’la bond. A wedding is traditionally done to bind the tribes of the mated pair but as you are not Vulcan some customs will not be followed. The Vulcan council has approved of it but we require your consent.”

 

“I don’t have…a tribe.” He doesn’t even have a good family, at least, not the kind he’s always seen on television with big families who squabble occasionally but make up at the end of the day. Well, he does have something like that with the Enterprise crew but they’re not his blood relatives.

 

Then again, they already have sort of formed a connection with Vulcan seeing as how they’re the ones who rescued them so Jim doesn’t think they’d object. He _hopes_ they won’t object.

 

And it will make Spock happy, probably. He doubts Spock will admit he’s feeling happy but his culture seems important to him. He remembers the reserved way Spock held himself when he started talking about his mother. It makes Jim’s heart clench. He doesn’t want to see that again.

 

He doesn’t know Spock yet, not really, but he’s not a bad guy, probably won’t be a bad partner. _It could be worse_ , he reminds himself.

 

“Okay,” he says, surprised by how easily his answer comes. Spock’s expression doesn’t change but his eyes light up and Jim’s mouth stretches into a grin, like he’s smiling for the both of them. “Okay, let’s do the marriage thing properly.”

 

* * *

 

Bones, as expected, scoffs at the idea. “A wedding?” he says. “Whatever for, is he afraid you’re going to run off? You can’t do that with him in your head all the time, he’s got nothing to worry about.”

 

Bones hates weddings. He has a good reason to. Jim wasn’t there during Bones’ wedding to Jocelyn and he’s never met his best friend’s ex-wife in person, but whatever happened between them soured traditional romantic gestures for Bones. “Only one good thing came out of my marriage, Jim, and that’s my little girl,” is what Bones always tells him when he’s had too much to drink.

 

“I think it’s a great idea,” Sulu, who got married last year and even brought his new husband on board with him during a four-month mission, tells Jim. His eyes gleam and Jim knows what he’s about to say before he even opens his mouth. “Hey, do you think they’ll let me do flower arrangements.”

 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so.” As soon as he gave the go signal, Spock immediately contacted the council who assured Jim he wouldn’t have to do anything but show up. Or rather, they _insisted_ that Jim should stay out of it which Jim thinks is more than okay. He’s never been good at planning parties and he has zero idea how a traditional wedding between soulmates is supposed to go.

 

Uhura, who’s been on cloud nine ever since Vulcan let Starfleet officers have access to their cultural archives, sighs happily. “It will be an amazing affair,” she says. She’d probably be happier if she was the one getting married but as soon as Jim pictures her with Spock, jealousy lances through him, startling him with its intensity. She hasn’t even seen Spock yet—aside from Bones, Pike, and Chekov, none of his friends have seen his mate yet which just adds up on the list of how strange the whole things is, at least in the human perspective.

 

Uhura has a PADD with her and Jim doesn’t even have to glance at it to know that she’s reading up on Vulcan culture and wedding arrangements. She studied their language during their years in the academy, a difficult task seeing as how little material they had on Vulcan during that time. “I’ve been reading up on Vulcan customs all night,” she tells Jim. To Sulu she says, “Their weddings really aren’t like ours. However.” She frowns, thinking to herself. “You wouldn’t be having a traditional Vulcan wedding either, huh, Kirk? Yours will follow the customs before the Time of Awakening and I don’t even have access to those. What did they tell you to do anyway?”

 

“Just show up in formal wear which means I’m going to be wearing my dress uniform. And…” He trails off, remembering his other task. He looks at Bones who looks back at him with a slight scowl, already knowing Jim’s going to ask him to do something he won’t like.

 

“Well, apparently, I need three people willing to kill for me.”

 

* * *

 

A wedding between t'hy'la is done differently from other Vulcan weddings. There's currently no living Vulcan alive who witnessed one so the council cracks open ancient tomes, muttering to themselves as they read the instructions. Spock himself finds many of the things in the books illogical but tradition is tradition and most often Vulcan's pride of their culture outshines even Surak's teachings.

 

They have to change some things, taking Surak’s teachings, Jim's humanity, and their limited time before the Enterprise takes his husband away into consideration. Spock doesn’t like that; he wants Jim at his side but destiny gave him a man wed to the stars and Spock has to relent to Jim’s wishes. Strange, how his _katra_ is tightly wound around that of a man living his childhood dreams. _To explore the universe, to reach the stars, to be anywhere but here where his existence is seen a disgrace._ But that’s Jim’s life, not his.

 

They have less than a week to prepare and it will be a bit hectic but messages pour forth from Vulcans from other cities, informing him that they’ll be present to the ceremony. The wedding will be held on the last day of Jim’s stay, outside the city and under the stars like in the old ways. Jim, torn between his duties to Starfleet and his duties to him, always comes to visit him at night, exhausted and overheated. “You do not have to help us prepare,” Spock assures him. “My House is making the arrangements.”

 

“Yeah I know but.” He bites his lip, drawing Spock’s eyes to his mouth. “The bond is still blocked and I just need to touch you.”

 

The _ozh’esta_ leaves Spock’s skin tingling pleasantly every time Jim does it. He briefly entertains the idea of kissing Jim the human way, but stops when his father, present whenever Jim appears, looks at him disapprovingly, as if he’s read Spock’s thoughts, his un-Vulcan desires.

 

He informs Jim a bit about what will happen on their wedding. His mate merely nods and hums at the more mundane tasks like decorations and food but snorts with amusement upon hearing about the honor guard. "There's something like that in human weddings," he explains to Spock. "At least Bones will still get to be my best man."

 

“What does the ‘best man’ do in human weddings?”

 

“Usually just stands at the side with the wedding rings then tells embarrassing anecdotes about the groom during the reception. Has sex with the maid of honor, probably. I don’t know to be honest, I’ve never been a best man.”

 

“Ah. I’m afraid that’s not similar to the honor guard. The honor guard is composed of six individuals who ensure the safety of the bonded pair during the ceremony. There were often assassination attempts during the weddings before the Time of Awakening. T'hy'la were highly coveted by warrior clans and seen as a threat by enemy tribes."

 

Jim blinks, clearly not expecting that. “…well, Bones has saved my ass a lot of times before so I guess he’ll agree to be part of it. Are you sure no one’s going to want to assassinate us?”

 

Spock thinks about T’Pring’s family. He only hopes that T’Pring’s conclusion that a wedding with many witnesses will appease them. “Making me part of your honor guard will ensure your safety. They will not harm you as long as I am sworn to protect you and your mate,” was what she told Spock but Sarek, head of Spock’s part of the honor guard, has yet to approve of her application. Sybok, surprisingly, is the other one. He messaged Spock a day after word of the ceremony was spread, asking to be part of the honor guard, and while his father was clearly displeased and Spock himself unsure, blood right allows him to play the role.

 

Spock has not seen his brother in years and cannot predict what will happen with him present and playing an important role. It will be interesting, of that Spock is sure.

 

Jim himself has not invited any blood relatives. “I’m not close to my family,” he told Spock with a biting edge that warned him not bring the subject up with his mate again. His family must be the reason why Jim requested he keep the bond blocked, at least until they get to know each other more.

 

He’s secretive, his mate. But he’s less jumpy around Spock now, and sometimes when Spock sneaks a glance at him through his peripheral vision, he can see Jim looking at him with wonder.

 

"It will not be a full traditional wedding between t'hy'la," Spock says more to himself than to Jim. "There are customs that are considered taboo today—the requirement of bloodshed between the clans of the bonded pair is something we must not go through and I believe public mating is no longer necessary."

 

Jim chokes on his own spit at that.

 

“Public mating?” he asks in a hoarse voice but freezes when Sarek walks in the room. “Yeah, sure, we don’t need that.” But he eyes Spock for the rest of the night, eyes glazing before being replaced with a look of guilt followed by embarrassment. Spock’s tempted to unblock the bond and feel Jim’s desire for him, but decides not to. He’ll find out soon enough, he thinks as he bids Jim goodbye with the _ozh’esta_ , his mate shuddering visibly at his touch.

 

In less than a week, many in Vulcan will know he is Jim’s and Jim is his. The warrior’s blood is singing, pleased by the bond, by his mate, but the human side of him quietly cherishes the new and unfamiliar sense of belongingness.


	3. Chapter 3

The problem with the bond blocked is this: Jim keeps waking up incredibly horny.

 

He has a healthy sex drive like most men his age and he's no stranger to waking up with a strong desire to masturbate, especially when they're on a mission and Jim's duties and high rank are practically demanding him to be celibate; but he feels like a teenager overloaded with hormones again, waking up from dreams of pale skin and dark hair and the strong and admittedly _weird_ desire to bite Spock's ears. He feels a little guilty thinking about Spock—specifically, thinking about bending Spock over the nearest horizontal surface and fucking him—because he hasn’t even kissed him yet, and he doubts the guy's very interested in having sex with him. Soul bonding is one thing, sex is another and he may be Vulcan married to him but Jim's not going to force him to have sex with him if he doesn't want to. Jim doesn't even know if Vulcans have sex just for the sake of it.

 

He doubts it.

 

Has Spock ever slept with anyone? Does he even masturbate? What do Vulcan genitals even look like? The last has him searching the recently accessed Vulcan archives but Vulcans are apparently as secretive about sex to each other as they are to outsiders and Jim finds nothing. He doesn't even know why he's thinking about it because his wedding won't be anything like what they have on Earth, and Vulcans don't appear to have a concept of a honeymoon.

 

He did mention public mating though.

 

That was a practice before Vulcan’s reformation and they're _not_ doing that. Besides, the idea, when Jim really thinks about it, holds little appeal. Fucking Spock to the ground while his old man and other relatives and Jim's crew members are there? It's almost enough to kill his recently insatiable libido.

 

Well, almost.

 

He tells Bones about it because he tells Bones everything and Bones responds with a vehement lecture about how Jim should really keep his sex life and his fantasies about Spock to himself.

 

“Say one more thing about wanting to fuck your alien husband and I’m backing out of your honor guard,” Bones warns, tugging at the stiff collar of his own dress uniform. He eyes the phaser in his hand dubiously before tucking it in its holster. “Never brought a weapon at a wedding before. Are you sure I won’t have to use this?”

 

“Positive,” Jim replies even though he doesn’t really know.

 

More than half of the Enterprise crew will beam down and watch their first officer get married to an alien. They mill about, chatting excitedly in their dress uniforms. With meetings with the Vulcan government, helping repair the damage from the battle, and trying to figure out the Romulans’ next target on their spree of terror, they’re itching for entertainment and Jim’s just served it to them on a silver platter. He keeps receiving rounds of congratulations and curious questions about his spouse. _Where did they meet? Isn’t he too young to get married? What does his husband even_ look _like?_

Few of them accept the story about the bond and Jim doesn’t blame them. He’s still having a bit of trouble accepting it.

 

The wedding will be held outside ShiKahr, in somewhere that’s supposedly land sacred to the Vulcans. Scotty’s already managing the transporter, beaming down Jim’s wedding guests in small groups. Pike’s standing by his elbow. He looks up when he and Bones enter the transporter room. “Looking great, Commander,” Pike greets jovially.

 

He’s enjoying this. Of course he is. Pike picked up Jim years ago, transforming him into a troubled teen guilty of petty crimes and into his first officer. Guiding Jim into marriage is probably equivalent to a shiny trophy to him. Jim doesn’t mind, really. It’s kind of nice, being looked after like that.

 

His mother and brother don’t even know he’s getting married today. Well, they don’t know that he’s already married and that he’s having a formal ceremony today. Pike disapproved of that but Jim’s adamant to keep it that way. They’ll find out soon enough. Word will spread that a Starfleet officer got married to an alien from a planet who recently joined the Federation, the way it always does whenever that happens. They’ll be upset with him, probably, but Jim’s already on edge. He doesn’t need any messy family reunions today.

 

"Ready, Commander?" Scotty asks. Jim nods stiffly then moves to the transporter pad, followed by Pike and Bones. His palms are sweating.

 

"Ready."

 

* * *

 

 

He isn't dressed like a Vulcan, or at least, like any Vulcan Jim has ever seen. They put him in a painted vest that stops at his waist and loose pants that flows as he moves. Ink covers his arms up to his elbows, elegant Vulcan script forming designs all over his skin. A thick golden belt with tiny bells loops twice around his hips. There's jewelry as well: rings on each finger, golden anklets, and one strange earring that looks like the wing of a falcon clipped on his left ear.

 

He makes a jingling noise whenever he moves. Spock visibly tenses at the noise.

 

Jim thinks he's beautiful.

 

Spock frowns a bit when he sees Jim's choice in clothing. "Your attire is practical," he says. He looks a little envious that Jim just chose to wear his dress uniform.

 

Jim's lucky he doesn't have any house traditions to follow and no ancestral outfits to wear. He thinks about his Iowan roots and imagines coming to his own wedding in overalls and a farmer's hat and snorts.

 

"Yeah well, Starfleet's my main family now so I guess this counts as ancestral wear." He licks his lips; he can't help it. "You look...You look good."

 

Spock's brows knit together. "I look like a pre-reform Vulcan as is proper in t'hy'la weddings." He raises his hand, clearly displeased by the numerous bracelets attached to his arm. The movement makes his vest slide off a bit to expose more of his chest and Jim's mouth dries at the sight. Someone painted a Vulcan word on his side, the script hugging Spock's rib cage. Ink curls around one jade nipple and Jim briefly entertains the idea of smearing the ink on Spock's chest with his thumb or his mouth.

 

 _No_ , Jim tells himself, shaking off the thoughts _. No thinking about licking Spock's fucking nipples today_.

 

Most of Spock's guests are dressed like him, Jim notes, but not in as decorative a manner as Spock. They look like warriors. They _are_ dressed like warriors, Jim corrects himself, remembering Uhura's unwanted history lessons. "You're already married to the guy and you didn't put any effort into getting him to stick by your side! You should get to know his culture; it's the least you can do!" she cried when she cornered Jim yesterday with her ever-present PADD in her hands.

 

She approaches then now, followed by the rest of the senior crew. Jim gives them a warning look to not ogle him but they're clearly fascinated by Spock. He introduces them one by one, and Spock nods and raises his hand in that strange greeting.  

 

"Will you be coming with the commander?" Sulu asks, ignoring the warning glare Jim sends his way. "When Ben and I got married, he went with us on a four month-long mission."

 

"They allow your spouses to accompany you in missions?"

 

"Yeah, if the mission isn't dangerous but if you're a civilian you still have to sign a waiver before you board because anything can happen when you're out there. Pirates, engine malfunctions, ion storms—" He pauses then turns to Jim. "Didn't you tell him that he can go with us? We're just going to make some deliveries and stop by some research bases before we go back to Earth."

 

They're all looking him, waiting. "I..." He doesn't meet Spock's eyes, choosing to stare at his boots. He didn't tell Spock because Spock will be there constantly and the only person who's ever shared a room with him is Bones and he'd tested Bones' patience a lot of times when they were in the academy. He's heard how Spock's peers talk about him, about how dreadfully _human_ he is, and he's hesitant to bring Spock into his world only for him to be disappointed as soon as he sees what Jim's really like.

 

The memories of Tarsus aren't the only ones keeping the block between their minds.

 

"I mean I didn't think he'd want to go," he finishes lamely. He glances at Spock who says nothing, but Jim knows by the judging faces his friends are making that he's said the wrong thing.

 

"The ceremony will start in 24.6 minutes," Spock informs them. "I must go to my family and welcome my guests. Jim, you are free to roam until my father comes to collect you."

 

With that, he leaves. As soon as he's gone, Uhura immediately rounds on him. "What were you just going to wed him and then leave him and never return?" she snipes. Jim turns to Bones for support but Bones only has that look he does whenever Jim does something he disapproves of. " _Kirk_."

 

"Hey, you try being in my situation," Jim bites back. "I didn't want to be bonded—it just happened and I don't even know Spock very well yet. The only reason why we're even having a wedding right now is because it's important to his culture or something and Takeshi said it's my duty to go with whatever they want while they still have a chance to break off their alliance." And it made Spock happy, but he doesn't add that part for Spock's sake. "Maybe he doesn't even want to leave Vulcan."

 

"Maybe, but you didn't ask." Scotty shakes his head. "Sir, forgive me I'm overstepping but ye should get to know your husband and bring him on board. After all, yer gonna spend the rest of yer life with him."

 

And isn't that just a terrifying thought? He’s lucky because it’s Spock and Spock seems like a nice guy but a marriage for life? When he really thinks about it, his commitment issues make an appearance, settling in the pit of his stomach like a rock. He’s trying his best not to think about it. Having Spock at his side constantly will remind him that he’s bonded, he can’t fuck around anymore, he’s stuck with him forever.

 

He doesn’t voice out his concerns, though. "Fine,” he mutters, trying for nonchalance. He doesn’t know if they’re buying it. “I'll go talk to him about it after the wedding."

 

He walks towards the tent area where the ceremony will be held with Bones at his heels. "Jim," he says quietly and Jim forces himself to listen to whatever lecture Bones is going to give him. Bones is older. Jim may be higher in rank but Bones is older and has gone through more of the problems adults usually face so Jim has to listen to him to avoid fucking things up even more.

 

"I know neither of you planned to be tied together but you, especially, have to make it work because you'll just be miserable forever if you don't cooperate with that pointy-eared hobgoblin." He cringes at a young Vulcan who passes by, dressed in warrior garb and holding what appears to be a mace. "I know Vulcans pride themselves in being pacifists but they seem like they're easily offended so you better be careful and be nice to the hobgoblin while we're surrounded by thousands of Vulcans carrying weapons."

 

"They won't hurt us," Jim assures him but he tenses when he spots a hulking, bearded Vulcan throw an axe at a board with deadly accuracy. The Vulcans surrounding him clap politely.

 

"Okay but seriously Jim. This isn't just another body in your bed." Jim doesn't even try to defend himself. Bones has heard enough of his currently Spock-shaped libido. "If you ever do sleep with him, you can't just leave. I know that's what you're trying to do, Jim. Your automatic response is to have sex with someone and then run off and never think about them again. I _know_ you."

 

"Yeah," Jim answers, defeated. “You do.”

 

* * *

 

Sybok is smiling.

 

It's a clear sign that inviting him was a mistake. Spock blinks at his white teeth, stark against the black background of his unruly beard. In his honor guard attire, the beard suits him well, but outside it, Spock can't help but think that his brother looks nothing like a Vulcan. He certainly isn't acting like any Vulcan Spock knows. Sybok would be pleased with that observation, Spock thinks, but he says nothing and tries not to flinch when Sybok envelops him in a bone-crushing hug.

 

"Look at you!" Sybok says, still smiling. "The last time I saw you, you were seven and now you've been blessed with a t'hy'la bond. You’ve changed a lot.”

 

“You have changed as well.” That, at least, he can say. Spock glances at the group his brother brought along with him. They’re a ragged band of Vulcans, their clothes dusty from travel, their hair kept long and unruly. And they’re all smiling. They’re attracting stares from the other guests, and Spock fights off the urge to immediately run away, as far away as possible from Sybok’s little group.

 

 _Aren’t they a strange family?_ He can almost hear the guests whispering. _But what would you expect from a family who beds with_ humans? _They don’t know better; they’re too emotional._

 

“I saw your mate,” Sybok says as he playfully spins the axe in his hand. Spock backs away from it. “An officer of Starfleet, huh? I bet Father wasn’t too pleased with that. He was always discouraging those silly dreams of yours to join Starfleet and I mean, they _were_ illogical since we weren’t part of the Federation then, but it’s possible now, isn’t it? Or are you going to apply to the Vulcan Science Academy?”

 

 _Are you going to follow what he wants?_ Sybok doesn’t say it but Spock can read the mockery on his brother’s startlingly expressive face. _Are you still going to try and fit in?_

“Yes,” Spock answers.

 

_No. I want to go with my mate; I want to be far away._

But Jim doesn’t want him. It hurts a bit but Jim has his own life and Spock shouldn’t burden his mate with his problems. He clearly doesn’t want Spock to be a big part of his life if he didn’t even mention that it’s possible to bring Spock along with him. A part of him is screaming that this is wrong, and that a t’hy’la bond shouldn’t be reduced to a long distance relationship, but Spock does his best to silence that part. He will do his duty and wed Jim formally tonight then bid him goodbye the following morning. As is expected of him.

 

His answer disappoints Sybok. The smile is gone now, replaced with a frown, and Spock doesn’t understand why it makes him more uncomfortable.

 

* * *

 

The honor guard, as Spock explained to him before, is composed of six members. For Jim, he picked Bones because while Jim never thought he would ever get married the idea of Bones as his best man just automatically clicks. Pike is the other one because he's his captain and before that Pike was practically the man who raised him, bundling Jim into Starfleet like Jim’s father had probably wanted. The last is Admiral Nogura who Jim isn't even really close to but someone higher up the chain of command wanted to witness the first Vulcan-Human wedding with one of their own involved, so Nogura had shipped off from the Starfleet base and to Vulcan as soon as he heard of the ceremony. He's perspiring quite a bit, wiping his brow every now and then with a white handkerchief.

 

Bones looks a little uncomfortable on the dais. Jim doesn't blame him. He's nearest to Spock's part of the honor guard and all of them are dressed in pre-Surakian fashion. Spock's father is one and if Jim thought Sarek was a little intimidating before, he's certainly terrifying now with warrior paint on his face and even a large sword-like weapon in his hands. Beside him sits the bearded Vulcan who was playing around with the axe earlier. He’s grinning, looking around the room like everything is amusing to him, and it’s clearly displeasing the other Vulcans, who, despite being dressed in the clothes of their ancestors, are still very much adherent to modern Vulcan discipline. The last member of Spock’s honor guard is a small and pretty Vulcan with scripts painted with white ink coiling around the dark skin of her arms like snakes. Her weapon of choice is a long knife with a serrated blade.

 

 _Whoever said that Vulcans don't know how to fight must have been speaking a lot of bullshit,_ Jim thinks.

 

Jim doesn't think that anyone's going to want to kill them and Spock assured him they just went through with the honor guard out of respect to the old ways but he keeps looking at Bones to make sure his phaser is still with him, and Bones keeps looking at him. Jim wasn't allowed a weapon of his own.

 

The drums start as soon he and Spock walk up the dais, hand in hand. His palm is sweating a bit, which Spock probably finds gross (Vulcans don’t sweat, apparently) but he was told not to pull away until they're seated in the middle of their honor guard. It's a long walk up and with the eyes of Vulcans and his own crewmembers following him, Jim starts humming quietly to himself, an old nervous habit he'd picked up as a child. He catches Chekov’s eye when they pass by the row where his friends are seated. He gives him a thumbs up and Jim replies with a nervous grin.

 

"Sorry for sweating on your hand," Jim whispers to Spock when they're finally seated. The pillows beneath him are too soft to be wholly comfortable. He keeps shifting. Spock meanwhile is seated with his back straight, eyes trained in front of him. He rests his hand on Jim's knee, silently warning him to settle.

 

 _Sorry,_ Jim thinks, putting his hand over Spock’s. The gesture makes Spock tense and Jim almost interprets it as discouragement until he sees Spock looking at him with that curious expression he’d given Jim when they first met. He turns his palm up and Jim tentatively intertwines their fingers together. Spock doesn’t pull away.

 

The Vulcan priest is old, quite possibly one of the oldest Vulcans around. He makes his way slowly in front of them assisted by two young Vulcans from Spock’s House. The priest says something in Vulcan which Spock translates for Jim's sake. It's mostly wedding bullshit and Jim zones out until he hears the priest start to speak in Standard.

 

“Are there any who would like to challenge this pair?”

 

No one moves. Jim sighs, relieved, and he can see several members of his crew relax as well. Jim instinctively tightens his grip, startling when Spock rips his hand out of Jim’s grasp. “Vulcan hands are sensitive,” Spock whispers, face flushed.

 

Oh.

 

_Oh._

He doesn’t dare glance at Spock’s side of the honor guard.

 

Jim’s embarrassment has already faded a bit when the Vulcan priest approaches them, carrying a large wooden bowl filled with a steaming liquid. “Are we going to eat already?” Jim asks a little too loudly. He hears Bones snigger and from his peripheral vision, he catches Sarek’s glare.

 

“We are to share a meal. It is the last part of the formal ceremony,” Spock explains to him as the bowl is put in his hands.  Jim doesn’t understand why the sight of it has him bristling, anxiety prickling all over his skin. He tries to quell the feeling. _It’s just nerves. It’s about to finish and you have to talk to Spock about the whole not telling him about being allowed on board thing—you’re just nervous._

 

Spock tilts the bowl a little, allowing Jim to see its contents.

 

Inside it is a thick, purple blue liquid that smells faintly of smoke. It’s still boiling, thick bubbles rising and popping on the surface. Steam rises from the bowl, curling around Spock like a scarf as he raises it to his mouth.

 

And Jim—

 

Jim moves and knocks it away.

 

The liquid splashes all over them. Jim screams when it burns his hand, his body bending forward as the pain overtakes him. “Jim!” Spock’s staring at him like he’s gone mad. The soup doesn’t seem to have bothered him but he’s looking at Jim with something like fear and Jim wants him to stop, wants to make him feel better and tell him it will be okay because he's safe now. “Why did you—”

 

There’s a flurry of movement in his peripheral vision. The woman is running forward. It's the pretty one from Spock’s honor guard, Jim’s brain notes. His heart skips a beat when she raises her knife, the edge of it gleaming under the torch lights.

 

The blade sinks in the side of the priest. Jim hears the soft woosh of his last breath, before panic erupts.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think in the comments section ♥


	4. Chapter 4

The doctor is fuming. His name is Bones, Spock recalls, which he believes is a ridiculous and inaccurate name for a human being. Bones belong in the body. They have their own names, their own classifications—humans shouldn’t identify as body parts. His thoughts crash to a halt when the doctor whirls at his father, pointing at him with his medical tricorder. "What do you mean this is normal?" he says turning on Sarek who responds with a raised eyebrow.

 

“And you.” This he says to T’Pring who looks up from her knife with feigned disinterest. She’d grabbed Spock by the arm once more when they left the main tent, fingernails digging into his skin meaningfully. Spock had let his shields down to let her thoughts mingle with his. _I apologize; I did not expect this to happen._

Spock’s reply was simple. _You saved us. You need not apologize._

 

“You just? You killed him immediately? Not that I’m ungrateful but how did you know he was the threat?”

 

“The priest is the only one who is allowed to prepare the shared meal,” T’Pring answers. She doesn’t bother telling him that they’d had a partial bond for years, that even with it broken, T’Pring would still, for a time, be able recognize malicious intent against him, and Spock would be able to do the same for her. “It was a logical conclusion.”

 

Bones looks ready to argue with that but the captain of the Enterprise steps forward and lays a hand on the doctor's shoulder. "Leonard," he cautions. The man jerks at the touch but settles, reeling in his anger until it's no longer an explosion.

 

"If you can please explain further, Sarek," Captain Pike says.  "Your priest tried to poison your own child and his mate and the wedding is still going on?"

 

"There is always a threat to a pair who are t'hy'la," Sarek answers simply. "As neither my son nor his mate are dead and as T'Pring was efficient in removing the threat, the wedding may continue."

 

It's still happening. The members of Starfleet are restless, but Pike ordered them to remain in the main tent with Spock's Vulcan guests. The Vulcans are calm, silently judging the chattering humans, not even bothering to look at the green stain on the dais where T'Pring took Sekal's life. How odd they must seem to the humans. Spock can see it in the Admiral Nogura's eyes, the way he keeps looking at Jim with something akin to pity, then sneaking glances at Spock. When he looks at Spock, it’s with disgust and it jars Spock to see it on a species that isn't his own.

 

"But why did he try to poison them? What was his reason?" When he receives no answer from Sarek, Pike turns to him, helpless. Spock presses his lips together into a thin line.

 

He catches Sarek's warning through their familial bond, catches a small hint of Sybok's amusement in the link he has with his brother. "It is not for us to discuss with outsiders," Spock responds, his voice flat.

 

"But you're part of the Federation already!" Nogura argues.

 

"He means people who aren't family," Sybok replies for him. “There are things that must be kept to ourselves.”

 

In his mind, he feels a flicker from their link and Spock tenses. _He shouldn’t_. But it's a conversation that he can only have through this manner. Spock knows Sybok will leave again as soon as the wedding is over. There is no place for him in ShiKahr, not after his rebellion, when Spock was too young to fully comprehend why his brother left. He still doesn’t fully understand but after today, Spock can make his guesses on why Sybok left.

 

Carefully, Spock worries at their familial bond, pushed at the very back his mind and rusty from lack of use. Sybok's thoughts open to him. It isn't a true meld with the lack of physical contact, and it's full of static but Spock manages to find his brother through the white noise.

 

_He wanted to remove you from our House. He has always seen you as a blemish in our line and your bond with a human made it worse. Sekal's sons still live and there are those who do not appreciate this alliance with the Federation._

How dare they, Spock thinks, anger flaring in him. How dare they reject Jim and his friends when they saved their lives? How dare they think Vulcan purity is more important that this? He settles his emotions before they can reach the link he has with his brother, but he must have shown an outward sign of his anger because Sybok is smiling, ever-smiling.

_Indeed._

_Sarek cannot protect you from our own family._

_No._

_You can come with me._

 

The link stutters when Spock hears the suggestion. He widens his eyes at Sybok.

 

_You are in danger as long as you remain here. This is the logical choice._

 

It _is_ a logical choice. If he is in danger in his own House then there is little chance Spock will live longer than a month. He hadn't thought he would be in danger from his own family, having focused too much on T'Pring's to realize that some people from his own House would not take kindly to naming another human as their kin, and one with the high honor of having a t'hy'la bond.

 

_Sybok, I—_

 

Suddenly, the link between them is cut off, like a door slamming shut between them. Spock bites back a wince at the suddenness of it, and he sees Sybok touch his temples, pain crawling over his features. Their father is eyeing them coldly.

 

"I suggest we leave my son and his mate alone so he may calm him down," Sarek says in a tone that doesn’t bode room for argument. He and Sybok watch each other. His brother doesn’t bother to reign in his irritation, his beard twitching when he grits his teeth. The others pick up on it and leave, but the doctor stands his ground and argues that Jim may need his medical assistance.

 

Finally, Spock focuses on his mate.

 

Jim is in distress. Spock can see it in the whites of his eyes and the way his hands keep twitching towards Spock, silently asking to touch him. A meld will calm him down, but it's not a viable option when their relationship—or rather, lack of a romantic one—is still new.

 

He'll have to settle for a comforting touch.

 

The doctor will not leave. He's eyeing Spock with obvious distrust, and he stands too close to Jim, one hand positioned near the holster where his phaser is. When Spock steps into Jim's space, the doctor's clenches his hand into a fist, but he acquiesces and moves a little away.

 

"Jim, allow me to help," Spock says. Blue eyes stare at him. Spock can see fear swimming in them. Even with the bond blocked, he can feel a flicker of apprehension and possessiveness seeping through Jim’s side. Gently, he strokes his fingers down the back of Jim's uninjured hand. "You need to touch me," he murmurs.

 

Jim swallows, nods stiffly, and then he's moving into Spock's space, barreling into him with such force that he almost knocks the two of them backwards. His hands are sliding underneath the ridiculous vest Spock has on, smearing ink, and Spock has a split second to think that the wedding attendee who'd painted his skin will be displeased, when Jim crushes him against him tightly, tight enough that Spock's breath catches in his throat. Jim's buried his face in the crook of his neck and he's muttering something under his breath that Spock picks up as "I don't understand what's happening" and "you were in danger I had to do it I had to I don't know how I know but I just did". He's trembling, and Spock startles when he realizes he's also shaking.

 

The doctor is gawking at them.

 

The barrier between their bond is flickering, patches of Jim's frantic thoughts bleeding into Spock's mind. He puts all his mental strength in keeping it closed and Jim's hold on him tightens, his hands digging into Spock's back. He'll bruise there, Spock thinks.

 

Three point two minutes pass before Jim calms down enough for Spock to release him. The doctor who appears attuned to Jim's needs quickly puts a hand on his shoulder. A primal part of Spock growls at the hand on his mate but it settles when he sees Jim's face, relaxed now and starting to regain color.

 

"I don't know how I knew it was poisoned but…I mean, I didn't know," Jim mumbles. There's something more to it—a story Spock has no access to or will probably never have access to—but Spock doesn't push. "I just knew he was going to hurt you."

 

"Us," Spock corrects. "We were to share that meal. Bonded pairs know when their mates are in danger but I did not expect that you would sense it with the bond blocked. I surmise that I wasn't able to sense the danger immediately because I've been concentrating on keeping the mental barrier between us." _And I did not expect a Vulcan from my own House to want my death_. "I…admit to having difficulty keeping it fully blocked."

 

He becomes anxious when Jim merely watches him, and Spock does his best to compose himself before he speaks. "It would help if your mind was trained to Vulcan disciple—if you learned to meditate. I can give you texts before you leave tomorrow on how to achieve this so you may practice meditation."

 

He wants Jim to tell him to just leave the bond unblocked, but knowing by the wariness in Jim's face, Spock knows it's not an option for him. "Or," Jim starts. He looks at the doctor and for a few seconds, Spock watches them communicate silently with their facial expressions, an act that he finds somewhat fascinating. "Or I could bring you with me so you'll teach me how to do all of that in person,” Jim says, turning to him. “Unless you're not okay with that."

 

Spock wasn't expecting that.

 

"I assumed you would not want me there."

 

Jim bites his lip. "I…I have my reasons for not wanting you on board. Well, _had_." He's scared, Spock realizes. For Jim, it isn't a simple question at all.

 

But neither is it a simple answer for Spock.

 

To go with Jim means giving up a promising career as a scientific researcher on Vulcan. He will not have a career of his own in his mate's ship. He will most likely be bored, waiting for Jim to finish his duties and even then Jim might not be willing to entertain him. He may not be able to return.

 

And yet he has not much choice. He truly is in danger here. And to go with Jim means leaving Vulcan. It means seeing and experiencing things no other Vulcan would. It means a bit more freedom than he's ever been allowed, and that no one will be watching his every move, waiting for him to make a mistake.

 

"Yes," he says and Jim brightens, his mouth stretching into a wide grin.

 

* * *

 

 

"One moment you didn't want him with us, the next you're inviting him to join us?" Bones huffs. "Jim, not that I'm complaining because I think you're being responsible for once in your life, but can you explain what's going on in that corn-infested head of yours?"

 

Jim tries for a nonchalant shrug but Bones isn't buying it. He sighs, his earlier bravado already disappearing. "It's just. Look I can't concentrate with me always thinking about where he is and I can't have the bond fully open just yet, and it will be easier for me to learn all that Vulcan mind stuff when he's actually there to teach me."

 

Bones shakes his head. "I get that but give me the real answer."

 

"The real one? Bones, _his family_ tried to kill him."

 

"You as well."

 

"Yeah but who am I to them? I'm just some human who got into their stupid House. His family, Bones. I don't think they treat him well here and I can't just leave, knowing that I could have done something better." _Not again, not after Tarsus_. Some of the gruffness melts away from Bones’ face, and Jim automatically relaxes when he recognizes the understanding expression Bones wears whenever he brings up his past.

 

"In Tarsus," he says, "we'd poison the weaker kids. When we got the few rations we had and some of the older kids would put poison in the food they gave to the younger kids. It was a better death than from the hands of Kodos' men. Mercy killing. I had to watch Parker poison his own kid sister." Jim's voice falls flat as he continues, "That, I can understand. But what happened earlier? No, I just—Bones, I can't leave him with these people."

 

“Normally I’d tell you that you can’t save everyone that you ought to reel in that hero complex of yours.” He pointedly ignores Jim’s scowl at that. “But…yeah, I agree with you. It probably wasn’t easy growing up being the only half-Vulcan in existence. At least, he’s the only half-Vulcan ever as far as I know and prejudice against the children of interspecies pairings still exist.”

 

Pike doesn’t dissuade him from his proposal when Jim catches up to him but Nogura grimaces. “Are you certain, Kirk?” he asks, and Jim grates at his tone. “We know they’re technologically-advanced compared to us but from what I’ve seen today well…they’re a bit savage aren’t they?”

 

“And in some parts of Earth, there are still idiots out there who believe it’s bad to be gay and people who still believe in white supremacy and there are monsters who still hurt children. And then there are _humans_ who think we’re the best thing the universe has to offer when we’re clearly not,” Jim snaps, forgetting himself. Pike’s eyebrows lift in surprise but he keeps his mouth shut and lets Jim go on. “They’re different but we’re not much better than them.”

 

Nogura’s jaw clenches. “Very well. But he’s _your_ responsibility. And Kirk, mind your tongue when you talk to a senior officer.”

 

“I’ll deal with my First Officer, Admiral,” Pike says dismissively. Nogura doesn’t do it but Jim can see he’s practically fighting the urge to roll his eyes at them. “Too damn loyal to each other” was what several members of the admiralty had said on the Enterprise’s last evaluation. It’s a good quality to see in the crew of a starship when on a mission, but a liability when off duty, and there used to be empty threats of rotating the senior crew and transferring them to different ships. But they work extremely well together so it’s never happened.

 

So far.

 

The sternness disappears as soon as Nogura leaves them alone. Under the orange glow of the torchlights, Pike looks older than his year. Jim is one of the few people who has the privilege to see him outside his persona as their captain, a feat he takes pride in, the way a child takes pride in being a teacher’s favorite student. “He’s right, you know,” he says to Jim. “I think it’s a good idea but after the events of today…I don’t doubt my crew’s integrity but they will be apprehensive around your husband for a while. But I’ll sign his pass if that’s what you want.”

 

“I can deal with the admiralty if they have any objections and I’m sure Sarek will help,” Jim says. “I need to deal with this anyway.” He taps the side of his head. “The bond, I mean. Spock says he can help me manage it. I’m being selfish by keeping it blocked, aren’t I?”

 

Pike who’s never once lied to him nods. “But I know your history, Jim. Not all of it, but enough and it’s understandable for you to want some privacy. Give it time. Anyway do you think his family will allow him to go with you?”

 

_Who cares what his family thinks._

 

“It’s only logical for him to go with his mate, isn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

 

They finish the wedding with T’Pau acting in Sekal’s place. They share a new meal, and have their right hands bound together in twine under the watchful eyes of their honor guards. By the time Spock’s stepped off the dais with Jim’s hand still in his, Sybok and his group have already left, and Spock feels a pang in his side at his brother’s departure. For a brief moment, he contemplates about taking his brother’s offer, then decides that it wouldn’t have worked. He would still be bound to Jim and there’s no need to bring even more shame to their House by going rogue.

 

His father is waiting for them. Sarek quietly listens as Jim immediately relays his plans to take Spock away with him.

 

“Tomorrow he can leave with you,” Sarek tells him. “But for tonight, my son must stay with me.”

 

Jim looks ready to protest but Spock shakes his head at him. “Just make sure none of your relatives try to kill him again,” Jim mutters under his breath. If his father heard, he doesn’t show it.

 

Spock’s half-expecting a lecture when they return to their house when Sarek lets out an uncharacteristic sigh, his shoulders drooping a little, and then he says, “This is not what your mother would have wanted for you.”

 

No, Spock supposes. His mother would not have wanted him like this. Running away from his own House to preserve his own life, running towards an uncertain future amongst strangers with a mate reluctant to meld with him. “Mother would have accepted that a t’hy’la bond is formed spontaneously and cannot be unchanged without dire repercussions,” Spock says even though he knows that isn’t what Sarek meant. His father’s head turns to him but he says nothing in reply.

 

No, his mother would not have readily accepted his bond with Jim, unlike his father, but she would have in time. She would have enjoyed Jim’s company perhaps, and Jim would probably have found solace in talking to another human bonded to a Vulcan. But his mother is dead and his brother is gone and Sarek’s protection only extends so far within their own House. He is alone in this.

 

He sleeps uneasily in his childhood bedroom that night, wondering if it will be the last time he’ll be able to do so. When he wakes with his head pounding from lack of sleep and proper meditation, it’s to Vulcan’s early morning sun, the familiar heat of it licking at his skin where his blanket hasn’t covered him. And on his side table, sits a thin square package, wrapped delicately in gold foil by his father’s own hands.

 

* * *

 

 

“Is this all you have?” Jim asks incredulously. Even Pike has difficulty schooling his features, disbelief evident in his eyes when he looks at Jim.

 

Spock hikes up his small canvas bag over his shoulder in a manner that Jim almost thinks is a way to cover his embarrassment. “Vulcans are not materialistic,” he says and Jim supposes that must be true but still. Still, he can’t help but wonder if Spock’s been denied of good things his entire life. It must appear on his face because Spock does that little mouth twitch that Jim’s come to know as his smile. “I am telling the truth, Jim. Vulcans do not lie.”

 

He has something in his hand—a small, squareish thing covered in gold paper that Jim guesses must be too delicate to stuff in a carry-on bag. He thinks about Spock’s clothes and how many he brought before reason catches up at him and swats the back of his head with _are you an idiot? We’re in the 23 rd century, we have replicators_. None of them are programmed to spit out Vulcan fashion, though, but Vulcans probably don’t care too much about looking aesthetically pleasing. As long as they’re clothed and warm, it’s fine.

 

For a second, Jim fights the constant urge to put his hands on Spock, then realizes it would be stupid to fight it when he’s already bringing Spock with him. He hesitates a bit, hand twitching towards Spock’s, then caves and settles for putting a hand on the small of his back. Spock doesn’t jump, not quite, but his eyebrows lift at Jim.

 

He doesn’t move away.

 

It’s still too early for anyone to be up and about the halls, and the current shift on the bridge still has twenty minutes to go before rotation starts—long enough that no one’s getting ready to change posts yet but short enough that no one’s truly focusing on their work anymore. Jim will have to be there in twenty minutes. Pike bids them goodbye at the transporter room and Jim takes Spock to get his DNA code entered for the computer’s system.  The ensign typing in Spock’s information keeps sneaking curious glances at him, and when he hands him the civilians’ manual, he does it carefully, his hand darting back as soon as Spock touches the PADD, as if he’s _afraid_ of him.

 

Inwardly, Jim snarls at this treatment. Outwardly, he gives the ensign a warning glare that chastises him.

 

“We’ll be leaving orbit in thirty minutes and I have to be on the bridge in twenty,” Jim tells him as he leads him to his cabin. “But I can check up on you in about three hours.”

 

Spock’s mouth tightens at this. “I am not a child that needs to be looked after constantly,” he says, his words laced with acid, and Jim winces.

 

“No, I mean, I know you aren’t. I just want you to be comfortable.”

 

He remembers, too late, that he didn’t clean his room properly. The door slides open, revealing his quarters with his clothes strewn haphazardly on the floor, empty paper cups tucked away in different areas of the room. Spock blinks, looks at Jim, then blinks again at the mess of the room.

 

“I’ll clean it up later,” Jim promises. The bed is neatly made though, and _clean_ , and Jim quietly thanks Bones’ constant complaining about how Jim never made his bed during their days in the Academy, for his current self’s habit of keeping his bed neat and tidy. But it’s small. A double bed, which is a privilege reserved for the senior officers, but it’s only just big enough for two people to fit in. He’ll have to place an order on Engineering to bring up a different bed.

 

Or beds, he thinks. No, two single beds would be better. Spock would want his privacy and while Jim isn’t unaccustomed to sharing a bed from having been too used to curling at Bones’ side during his worst days in school, well. As Bones liked to complain, he tends to kick.

 

He has nightmares sometimes. Spock will find that out soon enough but it’s better to spare him from the kicking.

 

“Um, feel free to make yourself at home. And don’t clean up!” he adds when Spock bends down to pick up one of his command shirts. “Just relax for a bit and then I’ll hang out with you later, or you can go about and explore. You have access to a lot of areas in the ship even as a civilian and there are some non-combatants on board as well you can socialize with.”

 

He looks a little alarmed at the socializing part. Spock lets his shirt drop back to the pile on the floor. “I will stay here for now,” he informs Jim then sits on the bed, picks up the civilian’s PADD, then begins to read.

 

“Okay…” Jim says, feeling a little miffed about being ignored. “Okay I’ll see you later.”

 

When he gets to the bridge, he’s greeted with a lot of curious stares from the crew, most of which, Jim chooses to ignore. “Your husband settling, okay?” Pike asks with genuine concern when Jim takes his position at his side.

 

“He’s fine,” Jim says. He looks at the view screen where Vulcan is quickly disappearing from their view, growing smaller and smaller as the ship speeds away. There isn’t a window in Jim’s cabin but there’s a monitor in each room that shows what the view screen is displaying whenever they leave orbit. He wonders if Spock is watching it now.

 

There’s not yet a lot to do and the ship is being stirred towards one of the Juno planets, which is lightyears away from Vulcan and in one of the most peaceful sectors under Federation patrol, so Jim’s promise of checking up on Spock in three hours shortens to two. He makes his excuses to Pikes, then pointedly ignores Chekov’s whispered joke about ‘the commander wanting to bed his new husband in their shared room’. It isn’t like that, Jim tells himself, remembering all too well how soldiers in Tarsus IV would bring unwilling women to their beds and make them their wives.

 

It isn’t like that. It _isn’t_.

 

He didn’t bring him on board for that purpose.

 

When he reaches his quarters, he’s greeted to the sight of Spock fast asleep. He’s sprawled on the middle of the bed, one arm thrown so that his hand is hanging off the side of the bed, legs spread as if he’s determined to occupy the entire space with his body. Jim didn’t pin Spock as the type of sleeper who hogs up the entire bed but the reality is a pleasant surprise. Asleep, he’s less reserved, his mouth open slightly as he breathes. The duvet’s fallen off the floor and Jim bends to pick it up and cover Spock with it when he catches sight of a foreign object on the side table.

 

The gold wrapper is still there, neatly folded and placed underneath the holo leaning against Jim’s small collection of antique books. It’s a woman. She’s smiling at the camera, one hand keeping the shawl on her head in place, her other arm keeping a small bundle tucked closed to her chest. Jim doesn’t have to look hard to know that it’s Spock, and he feels himself smile when he sees a tiny pointed ear, only partially covered by the cloth wrapped around him.

 

Spock makes a noise when Jim puts the covers on him, and his heart leaps at the sound. He doesn’t wake, not when Jim nudges his limbs off the edge of the bed, not even when Jim lightly touches his hand with two fingers, stroking the back of it with the gentle caress of a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks for reading, leaving kudos, and commenting!


	5. Chapter 5

Sixteen hours later, boredom finds him.

He’s read everything from the manual they gave him, has even gone so far as to memorize the layout of the ship _and_ the names of the senior crew _and_ the ship’s manufacturing history. For a while he keeps himself entertained by going around and observing Jim’s quarters. His mate, as Spock was able to see upon entering the cabin, isn’t the tidiest of people and Spock’s penchant for orderliness grumbles at the mess. Outside the sleeping quarters, there’s a 3D chess set, a plush brown sofa, and a personal replicator that Spock tinkers with for a while (He spends a few minutes deliberating on informing Jim that it’s currently programmed with few food items he can consume). There’s a television as well, mounted over a drawer that contains clothes that Jim must have owned before he became an official member of Starfleet. Spock tried the television at first but found that mass media didn’t appeal to him and after flicking through another movie that he supposed was a romantic film (the excessive human kissing seemed to indicate that it was a romantic movie although it just looked uncomfortable to Spock—why were they taking so long to come up for oxygen; didn’t that _hurt_?), he turned it off and focused on something else.

What truly catches his attention are the _books_. Not PADDs but actual papered books, like the old ones stored in the Vulcan library and the ones behind his father’s desk at home. Spock brushes his hand against the worn spines of Jim’s collection. He can’t help but smile when he sees that Jim has a copy of Alice in Wonderland, tucked between two books about 21st century transportation. His mother had loved to read that to him, even when he'd already learned to read by himself. He’d sit on her lap or lie on the floor, curled up against I-Chaya, lulled to sleep by the soft cadence of her voice.

But of Jim’s family, he finds no trace. No holos, no trinkets from home, which had made Spock hesitant to unwrap his father’s parting gift to him. Jim had already told him before their wedding that he doesn’t get along well with his family, and Spock’s guessed that they’re probably the reason why Jim prefers to keep their bond blocked. Spock hadn’t pried, understanding what it’s like to have a family you don’t wish to discuss.

He pauses to test the block. It’s stable again now that he’s well-rested, but the urge to break it down remains strong, the part of him centered to the bond confused about why Jim’s side is so _empty_.

 _No_ , he tells himself. _Not yet._

Jim won’t be off duty until much later, if the schedule on his personal computer is followed. He’d promised to check up on Spock earlier, but Spock was asleep and doesn’t know if Jim came in or not.

Most likely he didn’t. Why would he?

It hits him once more that he truly is alone here. He’s married to Jim, both through their bond and by Vulcan law, but Jim’s duty to his ship will always come first. It shouldn’t be hard, Spock assures himself. He’s used to being alone; his peers made sure of that.

But at least they were Vulcan. The Enterprise has a meager amount of non-human passengers, and with his planet only recently having been added to the Federation’s roster of ‘friendly’ planets, he’ll stand out even more.

Jim told him to socialize but Spock’s not yet ready to be gawked at and questioned by curious passengers. Socialization isn’t Spock’s strongest point either; that has always been Sybok’s expertise. But there’s a garden in the ship, he recalls, remembering the map from the manual. He’s interested in flora, scientifically and also to an extent, aesthetically. After his mother’s death, Spock had personally taken over the care for her garden, an act that surprisingly—or perhaps, not surprisingly—his father did not disapprove of. For a brief moment he wonders if Sarek will continue to care for his mother’s garden back at home, then decides that _yes_ , Sarek will most likely hire someone to care for it. He won’t tend to it himself, not like how Spock had, but he supposes that’s too much to expect from his father who couldn’t understand why his mother wanted to grow inedible and medically unusable plants.

“Because they’re beautiful, Sarek,” his mother had liked to say with a laugh. “Beauty has a purpose as well.”

It does. His mother’s garden always made him feel better after a long day trailing after his father at the Vulcan council. Perhaps the Enterprise’s garden can do the same for him.

He has to ride the turbolift to reach the garden which is located on the deck above Jim’s quarters. There are two crew members in the lift when he enters, and they immediately stop talking when they catch sight of him. They’re wearing blue shirts. Science blues, as the manual had informed him, but there are no stripes on their sleeves, meaning they’re not part of the senior crew. He can feel the weight of their stares follow him out the lift, and Spock’s Vulcan hearing catches their giggles and the hushed whisper of “I wouldn’t want to be in the commander’s position, having to marry _that_.”

It shouldn’t hurt but it does, stabbing Spock somewhere soft, and it takes a few seconds for him to recover and once more keep his face void of emotion.

The garden isn’t unoccupied—a few officers and three civilians are strolling—but it’s spacious enough that no one bothers to do more than shoot him a curious glance. Although the scientist in him marvels at the variety of plants, he’s somewhat disappointed to find that a majority of it looks like it’s catered to scientific use only—that is until he sees a small section that reminds him of his mother’s garden. Several stone benches are placed in a circle within the area. A woman is sitting on one, studying the PADD in her hands, and Spock’s about to move away when she looks up, recognition jumping on her features at the sight of him.

“Oh, hello,” she greets. Uhura, Spock remembers—one of Jim’s friends and a senior officer. Communications, Spock adds upon seeing her red uniform.

She pats the space beside her. “Come here and sit. I’m afraid Jim will be there for a while.” Spock can see her studying him for a reaction at that piece of information. He gives her nothing. “Anyway, come and chat. We didn’t have a chance to talk during the wedding.”

Well no. With the attempted assassination, there was really no time for idle chatter. His guests had enjoyed the food, though.

Spock considers the offer, then decides talking to Jim’s friend is better than being holed up in the first officer’s quarters with nothing to do. He takes a seat. Uhura looks at him for a moment, studying him, and then she asks, _“So how are you doing?”_

She laughs when his eyes widen in surprise, his control slipping momentarily at the sound of the familiar clipped vowels. “I studied your language when I was still in the Academy,” she explains. “Whatever material I could find on Vulcan, I’d read. It’s just—you have one of the most beautiful languages in the universe. I’m sorry if I butchered the accent; it’s beautiful but it’s definitely not easy for a human.”

“Your delivery was good. For a human,” Spock admits and Uhura sits up a little straighter, proud of her own accomplishment.

“ _Chaya t'not_. But seriously.” Her eyes, he notes, are very expressive, made even more so by the dark lines painted on her eyelids. Humans communicate efficiently with their eyes, a trait unique to Spock in his homeworld.

 _Look at how emotional his eyes are, how_ human _, how unlike ours._

“Do you like it here? It must be overwhelming for you.”

What does she mean by overwhelming? Does she mean the ship? The bond with Jim? Being away from Vulcan? Or…Spock trails off, remembering the laughter of the two ensigns he’d encountered at the turbolift. Oh, perhaps she meant _that_.

“I am adequate,” he says. He _is_ a little overwhelmed but admitting it is a weakness and Spock can’t afford to be seen that way, at least not now, not when he’s positive most of the crew sees him as their first officer’s weak little husband. Needing to be saved, not once, but twice now.

He glances down at the PADD in her hands, desperate for a change of topic. She makes a move to hide the screen from him, then seems to decide better on it. Uhura settles the gadget flat on her lap so Spock can see the screen clearly. His own script leaps at him. Above the section where the Vulcan alphabet is, the Romulan alphabet sits, looking almost like twins.

“There was an attack on Peleus II eight hours ago,” she explains. When her explanation’s only met with a pause, she adds, “It’s a planet that’s been applying to be part of the Federation for half a year now. Romulans attacked its capital, like how they attacked your city. We’re trying to figure out more information about the Romulans and how they’re managing to attack and get past patrol without being noticed but…Well, there’s not a lot of information about them. The Vulcan archives helped a bit since you share a common ancestry with them, but it’s not enough.” She sighs, frustrated. “We picked up some transmissions from the Romulan ships but the language they’re using is unlike anything I’ve ever heard. They could be speaking in code. I’ve been trying to translate it and use yours for comparison but there just seems to be no uniformity in their speech.”

“Perhaps I can be of assistance.”

She’s tempted, he can see that. But she shakes her head, her ponytail swaying with the motion. “No, you’re a civilian and this is our problem, not yours. The council can help us, though. The communications team’s been working with them since the attack on ShiKahr.”

Spock thinks about that. The council will help, but if it’s for warfare, they won’t be so cooperative. Spock doesn’t bother telling Uhura that; she’s most likely figured it out already. “Are we heading towards Peleus II now?”

“Oh no. _We_ are going to be delivering some medical supplies” Uhura waves her hand dismissively. “No, Starfleet dispatched the USS Tyr to that quadrant. The Enterprise serves as the flag ship of Starfleet but its primary purpose is for research and exploration and diplomacy, not for war. It can defend itself and if we happen to be in the quadrant and someone’s in trouble then we’ll go help them, but we don’t go searching for battles, not when we have civilians on board.”

The USS Tyr. So the council wasn’t exaggerating when they’d shared their misgivings about how Starfleet operates, about how it isn’t entirely a pacifist organization. But then, isn’t it _logical_ to have a ship catered to battles ready, just as a precaution, especially when the last intergalactic war wasn’t even a century ago?

Uhura’s still talking so Spock forces himself to listen. “There have been rumors of sending one of the ships on a five-year mission—most likely this one—but that probably won’t be for a while, at least not with the current political climate. Romulans attacking planets allied with the Federation and some Orion trade ships were spotted crossing the neutral zone.” She frowns. “If it gets worse…”

“Then you will ban civilians from boarding starships,” Spock finishes for her.

Uhura doesn’t deny it, but she grimaces at the thought. She’s young, just his age in Terran years, and she’s never known a large scale intergalactic war, much like how Spock’s never been thrust in that kind of environment. The Romulan attack didn’t count, not since they’ve been in cold war with the Romulans since before his father’s father was even born, and it doesn’t look like Vulcan will be raising its arms to risk crossing the border and attacking Romulan any time soon. They _are_ pacifists. Or at least, they claim to be.

There was nothing peaceful about Sekal trying to kill him but well, he’s not fully Vulcan. Apparently, he doesn’t count.

“Let’s talk about something else…” she says, troubled by the mere thought of a war breaking out. “What do you think of Jim?”

The question catches him off-guard. “He is my mate,” he says and Uhura huffs then rolls her eyes.

“I mean, what do you think of him? Is he okay? Is he nice to you?”

He thinks about Jim touching him, the hesitant way he steps into Spock’s personal space, like he isn’t sure if Spock will allow it. He thinks about Jim’s hesitation about the bond, the way he shuts him out as soon as Spock tries to get to know him better. One moment he’s the perfect mate and the next he’s so distant it’s like they’re light years away from each other. “Jim is…complicated,” he admits and the corner of Uhura’s mouth lifts upwards in understanding.

“Yeah, you can say that. I thought he was an idiot the first time we met, by the way, but Jim’s more complex than the countryside hick he lets you believe he is. Jim’s not good with relationships; it was already hard to befriend him at first.”

Spock considers this carefully. “Has he ever been in a committed relationship?” he asks and the answering grimace Uhura makes is enough. No matter. Humans aren’t monogamous by nature and well, if Jim wants to have other partners while they’re bonded…Spock bites the inside of his cheek, the rush of rage and jealousy startling him. He checks to see if Uhura’s noticed but she’s glanced down at a notice on her PADD.

“Does he…Is there anyone on this ship that he had a former relationship with?”

“No, that would be fraternization but he does have a lot of admirers here.” She looks up and her eyes soften at whatever she sees on his face. It makes Spock’s insides crawl with discomfort. “But he’s loyal and he’s changed a lot since he became our First Officer. He won’t hurt you.” And then, she says, “We’ll make sure he doesn’t.”

* * *

“You sure you didn’t swallow a bear?” Sulu quips when Jim’s stomach rumbles audibly.

“Wish I did. I’m so hungry I can probably eat an entire bear in one go,” Jim replies. His shift had taken longer than anticipated, since the USS Tyr contacted them about Peleus II’s attack. The planet’s safe, for now, but there were too many casualties on both sides, at least eighty-four dead from the residents of Peleus II alone. Jim can’t help but compare it to the situation in ShiKahr and how it could have been so much worse if they hadn’t stepped in to help.

 _You wouldn’t have gotten bonded, though. If you hadn’t stepped in to help, you wouldn’t be stuck to Spock_.

He brushes the thought aside. It doesn’t matter how they met. He brought Spock along with him and he’s even a little willing to get to know him better. Bones was right. If he’s going to be stuck with Spock forever, the least he can do is make things easier for them.

Jim checks his PADD but Spock hasn’t sent another message since agreeing to join Jim in the mess hall. He’s probably eaten already, probably used Jim’s personal replicator, but Jim figured that he’s bored and he doubts Spock actually took his advice and went around to meet the few civilians currently on board. He doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’d be great at small talk.

“I’m heading to the my cabin. Got a holo date with Ben,” Sulu says absent-mindedly, his mind already focused on the prospect of talking to his husband. He looks over his shoulder before he turns down the corner, shouting, “Enjoy your meal with your husband!”

 _Husband_. Jim shakes his head at that. He’s still getting used to it but at least he’s no longer scrambling away from the word.

Spock’s in the mess hall already, and to Jim’s surprise, is seated between Uhura and Scotty. Scotty’s talking animatedly and even from a distance Jim knows he’s telling Spock about the Enterprise’s design. Spock either appears to be genuinely interested or is just really good at looking interested in whatever Scotty is currently spouting at him. Jim thinks it’s the former.

He piles his plate high with food, then picks up a small plate of strange fruits he thinks Spock might like—he’s not sure but they look like the ones he’d eaten at their wedding and Bones had said something about Vulcans being vegetarians—then makes a beeline for the table.

“Commander,” Scotty greets when he spots them, cutting his own Enterprise lecture short. He moves off the bench, sweeping his hand to the spot he vacated with a dramatic flair. “Kept yer seat warm for you.”

“Sorry I should have warned you about Scotty’s penchant for talking to you about the number one love of his life.” Jim sits down and a small part of him takes delight in the way Spock slides closer to him, their thighs pressed together underneath the table. Spock looks a little confused, a little alarmed, like he’s not sure why he’s here and Jim considers taking his hand to reassure him but decides that Spock would probably not appreciate it in the presence of strangers. In Vulcan, at their wedding, it had been fine, appropriate even, but here it’s obvious to Jim that Spock’s trying to be in control.

“I do not know what you mean by that, Jim. Your Chief Engineer was merely talking to me about the ship’s warp drive capabilities.”

“Yeah, and the Enterprise _is_ the love of Scotty’s life.” Spock frowns a little at that, clearly unsatisfied by Jim’s answer. Oh well, Vulcans probably have different, more logical, ways to tease their friends good-naturedly, although when Jim thinks about it…maybe they don’t do that at all.

“Here,” he says, sliding the plate in front of Spock. “Try it. I don’t think I have this programmed on my personal replicator.”

“You don’t,” Uhura pipes in without looking up from her own plate. “You don’t eat anything healthy.” And well, Jim can’t get mad at that. She does have a point.

Spock pokes at the cube of weird fruit then pops one in his mouth. He chews slowly then eats one more, and Jim smiles a bit. “I’m sorry I took a little longer on the bridge than planned,” he says.

“That is fine. Lieutenant Uhura kept me company. And your lateness is understandable.” He spears another fruit with his fork, wrinkling his nose when red juice squirts onto his hand. “How is Peleus II faring?”

Jim widens his eyes at him then instantly turns to Uhura, betrayed. She rolls her eyes then points at the large announcement screen at the front of the mess hall. “Media got to it already,” she says. The screen’s showing the UFD news and the reporter, a skinny Andorian with a shocking orange wig set on his head to cover his antennas, is talking about the latest attack on Peleus II. There’s footage of the burning city that must have come from the planet’s own media, and Jim catches a glimpse of a Starfleet officer trying to dodge a reporter.

“Much like how it was on Vulcan, huh?” another news reporter asks. The screen cuts to a brief shot of ShiKahr. Beside him, Jim sees Spock crane his neck to get a better view of the screen.

“They mentioned your wedding earlier,” Scotty drops casually. Jim had expected the media to get wind of that but he still jolts and nearly knocks over the Styrofoam cup of coffee Scotty had set on the table. Spock isn’t wholly unaffected either. He shifts, sneaks a glance at Jim, then rests his palms flat on the top of his thighs. Nervous, Jim’s mind points out, and he only has a half-beat to marvel at how easily he can read Spock’s body language (almost as easy as reading Bones’ and he’s known Bones for years) when Scotty adds,

“They didn’t go into full detail and they didn’t mention names. Just that one of Starfleet’s members got to be the first from the organization to wed a Vulcan. I don’t think any of the Vulcans were keen to be interviewed and we’re on a ship so they couldn’t get too into it.”

Oh. Jim relaxes a little at that. Maybe his mother and brother don’t know yet. It’s not like he can hide it forever but he’s a bit too busy to sit down and talk about how he suddenly got married and why he didn’t tell them immediately. Besides, he’s pretty sure that when they do have the conversation, it will lead to several more unpleasant conversations about family and Tarsus and child neglect and—yeah, that’s not the kind of thing you can just discuss at a holo chat. Spock however doesn’t look satisfied with the report. He keeps looking at the screen whenever they show footages of Vulcan, the fingers holding his fork tightening whenever ShiKahr is brought up. _Does he miss it already_? Jim wonders.

“You will not be on duty for another ten hours.” Spock says when one of the ensigns finally got fed up and changed the channel from the news to an old movie. Jim doesn’t even bother asking him how he knows—he left him alone in his cabin and although he never put a password on his personal computer, he’s pretty sure even if he had, Spock would have figured it out in ten seconds. “Have you any plans?”

“Um no.” His usual task when he’s off duty and doesn’t have much paperwork to file is to watch crap television with Bones for a couple of hours but that isn’t exactly a productive past time, and Spock would probably look down on it. So no, he doesn’t have any plans.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I’m going to introduce you to Vulcan mental discipline.”

* * *

Patience, Spock tells himself repeatedly, is a virtue. He is Vulcan and Vulcans are known for their patience, for being levelheaded, for being understanding of a different species’ limits. He is Vulcan and—

And he’s extremely, extremely annoyed.

“I can’t do this.”

The candles have already burned low and the smell of incense is starting to fade. Spock makes a move to replace them but Jim’s hand darts out, clasping his wrist. “You’re mad,” he says, and Spock grits his teeth at the tentative way he says it.

Jim releases his wrist when he receives no answer. Seated cross-legged on Spock’s own meditation mat, surrounded by the candles and incense Spock burned for the session, Jim looks quite lost, a lot unlike a First Officer of a celebrated starship. He’s getting irritated as well, but at himself or at Spock, Spock isn’t sure. Spock wants to smooth out the wrinkle between Jim's brows with the flat of of his thumb. Wants to scream at him and stomp his foot like a child and yell, "It's not difficult at all!"

“Maybe humans can’t do it.”

“Humans have been practicing the art of meditation even before you achieved flight,” Spock snaps. He can’t help it. This should come naturally to Jim, at least according to the recorded texts about t’hy’la bonds. Jim’s inability to relax and clear his mind is making him anxious and making him think (quite irrationally but he can’t help it) that their bond is a mistake, that the t’hy’la bond isn’t actually true.

“My mother could do it,” Spock mutters under his breath and he’s hoping that Jim doesn’t catch it but he does. His nostrils flare and even before his mouth opens, Spock already knows he’s going to say something nasty, something meant to hurt.

“Well she bonded willingly, I didn’t ask to be burdened with you!”

They both freeze.

Spock tries to school his features into impassiveness but he can’t. The two ensigns were nothing; he’s being rejected by his mate and somewhere beneath the hurt and anger and confusion he dimly registers that the t’hy’la bond must be true because it shouldn’t affect him this much, shouldn’t it?

The silence is broken by the sound of music, streaming from the bathroom. The shared bathroom, the one that adjoins Jim’s quarters to Pike’s. The captain must have heard Jim’s shout, and perhaps embarrassed by their fighting, is trying to drown them out by turning up the volume of the radio in his own quarters.

Jim’s clenching and unclenching his fists, his breathing harsh. “Idiot,” he growls and Spock narrows his eyes at that, hackles rising.

“My intelligence is superior to yours.” It sounds childish even though it technically is true.

Still he doesn’t get why Jim releases a choked out laugh at his reply. It was meant to be offensive. “No not you,” he says. “I’m the idiot. _Me_. I told myself—I mean, I promised myself I’d try better for you because it’s unfair that you have to guide me through this whole thing when you didn’t ask for this bond to happen either.”

Spock doesn’t bother assuring Jim that he isn’t at fault. The hurt part of him is still angry, still unwilling to forgive so he merely nods and lets Jim go on.

“Something…something really terrible happened to me years ago,” Jim says and Spock sits up, his anger giving in to concern when Jim’s face changes, his skin turning pale at the memories he’s hiding from Spock. “I don’t talk about it to anyone but Bones and well Bones is the CMO so he has to know my medical records and we were roommates in the Academy and I couldn’t hide it then. You’ll see what I mean later.” He casts a rueful, apologetic smile at Spock. “Pike knows a bit because he’s my captain and…he was there when—when it was over he was there and he helped me after, got me into Starfleet and everything. And I know—I know I can’t hide it from you forever and that I’ll have to let you in my mind eventually but it’s. Hard.” His brows furrow. “My mind’s never been quiet ever since that time. It’s not an excuse to treat you like shit but I have to warn you that I’m going to have bad days and be difficult but I am trying my best. I want to try.”

And then he adds, “I’m sorry. I know it must be hard to understand.”

If Spock were Vulcan, if he were fully Vulcan, then perhaps it would be. But he isn’t. He’s half-Human and people in his own planet constantly reminded him of it, of his _defectiveness_. He remembers the taunts, the clandestine beatings, the cold judging eyes of the council. And the tests, the numerous experiments at the lab, the doctors who’d poked and prodded at him like he was a slab of meat. It was an ordeal not even his own parents could save him from.

_Does he feel pain? Does he cry like a human? Does he bruise like us? Let’s test our hypotheses!_

He thinks about the cold white halls of the labs and the smell of antiseptic then thinks about how he _doesn't_ want Jim to see that. Whatever happened to Jim must have been ten times worse than the majority of his childhood, but he can empathize.

No, it isn’t hard to understand at all.

Slowly, he lifts his hand, two fingers raised, and Jim breathes a sigh of relief. The kiss is brief but it warms Spock to the bones, feels affection trickle from his finger tips down to his arm.

Jim makes a face. “God Pike’s going to lecture me about being more discreet with domestic arguments.” He starts rubbing his legs, coaxing away the pins and needles that must have formed. Spock starts to get up but remembers something Jim had said and promptly sits back down again.

“What was it about me discovering an effect your past has on you? That I will see eventually?”

Jim blinks at him in confusion. And then he goes “Oh. Yeah, well.” He glances at the sleeping area, then back at Spock. “I have nightmares sometimes. About what happened. It’s how Bones found out and sometimes I yell and well, kick, so I guessed that maybe you’d like if we slept in separate beds? I can place an order in engineering to replace the double bed with two singles.”

It’s a logical arrangement. But it isn’t ideal.

“No,” Spock says. “Keeping out of each other’s spaces will not benefit us. It isn’t a long term solution. And I require a minimum of only four hours of sleep every forty-eight hours. You will still be using the bed more than I will.”

“Okay.” He looks a little dubious, but he’s agreeing and Spock counts that as a huge step for Jim. “Okay but if I kick you off the bed on the rare occasion that we’ll both be in it, I’m going to say that I told you so.”

And, unbidden, it comes. The most human thing Spock’s ever done in his life: he laughs.

It startles them both, startles Spock so badly he actually clamps his hand over his mouth, afraid to do it again, afraid someone might hear—until he remembers that he isn’t on Vulcan anymore and that there’s no one in the room but Jim.

Jim’s looking at him, eyes wide, and Spock doesn’t get it—doesn’t understand why Jim’s soft “oh” and the way he’s looking at Spock has him ducking his head, heat spreading on his cheeks, and for a moment he becomes hyperaware of his heart, beating fast against his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely long time no update lmao. Decided to pick up this story again.

Slowly, they get used to their living arrangements. Jim sets some ground rules for both of them, thinking hard about each one as he types on his PADD. Pike’s eyebrows lift when he catches sight of Jim’s list, but the approving smile he gives Jim must mean he’s doing it right.

In the end they have a short list. Spock reviews each one carefully.

“These are adequate,” he says before setting down his own rules.

1) Spock can share his bed if he likes but he’s never to wake up Jim in a brusque manner. Jim doesn’t doubt Spock would be able to disarm him if he wakes up from a nightmare and attacks but still, it’s better to avoid an unpleasant situation altogether.

2) Jim is not allowed to interrupt Spock when he’s meditating, unless it’s for an extreme emergency. Jim is also required to learn to meditate and allow Spock to guide him without complaint.  
  
3) Spock can wander off whenever he likes and go to the parts of the ship accessible to civilians but the moment the ship goes on red alert he’s to go to the emergency dock, with or without Jim. The same goes to Jim. He’s to inform Spock where he’s going whenever he has to beam down, unless Pike specifically asks him to keep it confidential.

4) If they’re going to bring up each other’s pasts then they have to be mature about it. No more yelling at each other.

5) Mind melds will only be off limits until Jim masters meditation.

The last one made Jim pause when he wrote it and it certainly surprised Spock. “I assumed you would never want us to meld,” Spock said and Jim had shrugged and quelled down his anxiety by just saying, “Yeah, well, we’re bonded forever and I don’t think it’s ideal for you to hold that barrier for the rest of your life.”

Spock touched his temple at that, almost self-consciously, which had been enough of an answer for Jim.

The meld, as Spock had told him, will allow him access to all of Jim’s mind and Jim to his. And it soon became obvious that he’s not the only one nervous about it. Spock had his arms crossed over his chest when he’d said it, a far cry from the usual (false) confidence he liked to portray. Away from Vulcan with people expecting him to follow the Vulcan way thoroughly, Spock seems to be second-guessing certain things.

“We’ll be okay,” Jim assured him and Spock had gifted him with that small smile of his.

And so far, they are doing well, although Jim suspects that has a lot to do with the fact that they don’t actually spend a lot of time together. He only spends five hours with Spock each day, six if he’s lucky, and a majority of that time with Spock is spent learning how to meditate. Additional work just keeps coming in preparation for the Enterprise's return to Earth and Jim finds himself more wearied than usual. Jim keeps apologizing about not being able to spend more time with Spock, to which Spock responds by stating that he already knew that Jim must prioritize his duties so he doesn’t mind Jim’s absence.

It feels more like having a roommate than a husband.

“This is exactly why Jocelyn got custody of Joanna,” Bones tells him when Jim admits to feeling guilty about not being able to spend a lot of time with Spock. “Starfleet members aren’t really made to have families. You can bring your family along but you don’t really get to be with them.”

“Yeah, Ben wasn’t too happy here,” Sulu says. “I was always too tired whenever I got back to our room so he just spent the whole time taking care of me. Aside from Ben being really outgoing, there’s also not a lot for an architect to do here.” Catching the miserable expression on Jim’s face, he adds, “But Spock must have found something to do. Science Lab 3 is open to civilians.”

“Except Science Lab 3’s for basic educational purposes and we all know Vulcans are thrice as advanced as us when it comes to that area. I don’t even know what Spock does whenever I leave him,” Jim says. He asked once and Spock had given him a short reply about studying the flora in the garden. Uhura had confirmed seeing Spock hanging around there, although she too had no idea what he was doing with all the flowers he was picking.

“I just want him to feel at home here.”

 

* * *

 

Science Lab 3 doesn’t have all the equipment Spock is used to back in Vulcan, but it serves its purpose well enough. The small child, a daughter of an officer in the science department, hands him the scalpel and watches with glee as he slices through the plant’s stem. Blue sap seeps through the cut, steaming slightly and emitting a foul odor that makes his unexpected yet welcome audience back away.

“But roses don’t have blue blood and don’t stink like that,” one of the children pipes in. Several small heads nod in agreement. They look at Spock expectantly, waiting for his explanation.

“This is the offspring of a plant from your Earth and a plant from Andoria,” he explains, careful to simplify his words. He isn’t certain if the children understand anyway. Unlike the Vulcan children back at home, they seem more interested in seeing him slice up plants than actually learning about his recent experiment. This recent one deals with mutating plants similar to those in his mother’s garden to have medicinal uses so his father will more willing to care for them. Due to the harsh climate, there's a small variety of plants naturally grown in Vulcan. The ship’s supply has been keeping him busy for days and Spock himself is appalled at the lack of studies in each one.

A fifteen-page study about each plant is a poor study in Spock’s opinion. Unbeknownst to anyone, he’s been studying and comparing each plant in the Enterprise’s garden, coming up with an extremely detailed hundred-paged study for each one.

He is aware that the human mind may find such a read tedious, however, each small detail is necessary, down to each plant’s cultural significance in their home planet, even.

Science Lab 3 is rarely used. The crew have their own science labs and a majority of the non-combatants on board prefer to spend their time in the rec room or the observation deck. Spock expected this and was more than pleased to find that he could do his experiments without having to compete for use of the lab equipment. What he did not expect is his audience of small children.

He did not follow Jim’s advice about actively socializing with other civilians on board. Spock saw the distrust and bewilderment in the eyes of the adults and felt uncomfortable. The children, however, are another story. They mill about him, unafraid and openly curious, constantly asking him about his ears and his ‘colorful dresses’ (actually his Vulcan robes which look nothing at all like a dress but the children cannot seem to grasp the difference) and Spock does not mind. Not being seen as a threat is a welcome change.

His impromptu lesson is interrupted by the door sliding open. Spock tenses when he sees the ship's captain standing at the doorway. The surprise is evident on Captain Pike's face. Spock sets the scalpel down then keeps his stained hands behind his back, schooling his features into what he hopes is an impassive mask.

There is no need to be nervous, Spock reminds himself. There are no rules against conducting experiments in this room.

"Your parents are looking for you," the captain informs the children who immediately leave the room, leaving Spock alone with Pike. The man's eyes dart to the tray in front of Spock. He's frowning as he stares at the mutilated plants inside it.

Spock hasn't spoken to Pike since the day Jim brought him aboard nor has he seen much of him. Spock does not know what to make of his character but Jim speaks of the man in high regard.

There is no need to be nervous.

"You're the only civilian I've ever seen actually use this place," the captain says.

"I was conducting research on several plants in the ship's garden," Spock admits. "The information provided on each species is...limited. I thought it best to provide a more detailed study on each one and on how to reproduce them at a faster rate."

Pike blinks. Spock tries not to squirm under the scrutiny.

"Is this the only thing you've been researching?"

Spock shakes his head. "I have produced five other works on different subjects, not all of them about vegetation."

"You must be bored out of your mind already."

"Boredom is not something Vulcans experience," he says but he can feel the weight of the lie on his tongue. The disbelief on Pike's face has him adding more, "Although, I do find that most of the scientific activites accessible to civilians are less mentally stimulating than what I am used to."

"Huh, well we'll be docking at Starbase 11 before we return to earth so maybe you can find some thing there to entertain you."

He gathers his things, keeping his head down as he does.

"Spock," Pike says once he's out the doorway. Spock stops.

"I wouldn't mind reading some of those papers."

Spock hesitates. He's caught between nervousness and flattery. Pike is human and based on his experience in trying to have a conversation with the other civilians (an attempt he'd rather not make again), humans are rarely entertained by the same things that fascinate him. On the other hand, Pike is captain of the Enterprise and an esteemed member of Starfleet. Approval from him would almost be equivalent to approval from an instructor at the Vulcan Science Academy.

"Perhaps I shall do that," Spock says then hurries away without another look back.

 

* * *

 

 

Starbase 11 is one of the bases farthest away from any of Earth's colonies. The distance from the human-populated colonies makes it one of the more diverse bases. From the corner of his eye, Jim sees some tension disappear from the set of Spock's shoulders. He's obviously more confident when there are other aliens around to divert people's attention from him, and Jim finds himself pleased upon getting a glimpse of Spock's true personality.

"Me and the senior officers will be having a meeting with the portmaster stationed here," Jim says. "I have no idea how long it will take so if you want to go return to the ship without me just comm the ensign manning the transporter. What will you be doing while we're here?"

"There is an exhibit about Vulcan science vessels that I wish to see," Spock tells him. His face remains impassive but Jim can detect the excited gleam in his eyes.

"Okay, go have fun."

Spock raises one eyebrow at that but he extends his hand to offer Jim the ozhesta. It's part of their routine now, but Jim doubts he'll ever get fully used to the tingling feeling it brings.

Commodore Stone greets them cordially enough but Jim can detect weariness in the man's features and there's a lingering smell of sickness in the room that Jim can see is putting Bones on edge. "Replicators went haywire last month and ended up poisoning people at the base," Stone admits. "We were too far away to get immediate help and we lost a couple of men. We got everything fixed but our medics said that fresh produce is still the best for people still recovering. Problem is it's not growing fast enough and whatever supplies the Federation tries to send to us rots before it gets here. We tried accelerating the growth but nutrients get lost or it rots too fast for storage. Science team's currently working on a solution but if it doesn't work we're doing to have to abandon this base."

"I see. Is there anything we can do to help?"

"Unless you've developed new technology for this problem, I'm afraid not."

Food shortage. Jim feels anxiety prickle at his skin, memories of Tarsus flashing through his mind. He catches the sympathetic expression Pike shoots his way. Jim quickly turns away.

This isn't the time, he tells himself, but he already knows he'll be troubled by past memories throughout the day.

"If you ever need a drink, you know where to find me," Bones reminds him once they leave the meeting.

"I know but I'll pass." He doesn't trust himself not to drink an entire bottle. He'll have nightmares tonight. He hasn't had them for a while, not since Spock came aboard, but Jim doubts he'll have a peaceful night after today's discussion.

Spock's already in bed when Jim returns. It's one of the rare occasions he opts for sleep rather than meditation. Usually Jim, takes advantage of the opportunity and spends a few minutes studying Spock while he's asleep. Asleep, Spock has his guard down and for some strange reason, Jim's better at reading him when he's unconscious than when he's awake.

It makes him feel a bit like a creep, if he's being honest with himself.

But not tonight. He's too troubled to do more than glance at Spock. He changes into sleepwear, keeping a shirt on out of respect for Spock, then carefully gets in bed. Spock doesn't even move. There's still space between them, large enough for another body to fit comfortably in it.

In Tarsus, they'd slept huddled together in a desperate attempt to generate enough body heat to keep warm. It isn't cold and Jim can adjust the temperature if he wants, but still he can feel a chill settling in his bones. He looks over to Spock and fights the temptation to close the gap and press his body against his.

In the end he keeps to his side and closes his eyes, waiting for sleep to reach him.

 

* * *

 

His mother greets him in his dream.

Vulcans don't dream but Spock's human half allows him this and as illogical as dreams are, Spock cannot help but appreciate it right now.

He is a child in this dream. "Kanbu," his mother calls and Spock goes to her, immediately wrapping his arms around her frame. She strokes his hair gently. "Little one, why are you so sad?"

In reality, he'd deny feeling sadness. It's a human emotion, one he as a Vulcan, should not be capable of feeling. But he's safe to be emotional in his own mind. "I am alone," he admits. "This ship is strange, my mate is kind but often busy and still hesitant to fully open our bond, and I cannot return to Vulcan. I am unsure of my future."

He tightens his hold on her. "I miss you, ko-mekh."

"I miss you as well." She lifts his chin and makes him look at her. "But you are never truly alone, Spock. You have your t'hy'la to guide you."

"He does not want me."

"Perhaps you should help guide him first."

"But—"

At that moment the dream shakes and his mother's image cracks with static. Spock tries to grab onto her but she disappears before he can reach her. Above him, the blood red sky of Vulcan has shifted to a burning yellow. The scent of smoke and blood appears, strong and sharp enough to leave him gagging.

This isn't my dream, he thinks, eyes widening. He has no memory of a place like this.

He can hear shouting in the distance, the sound of children crying. Spock looks around to try and pin the source but all he sees are dark blurs and shadows.

Another scream pierces the air.

And then, the boy appears.

"KEVIN! TOMMY! Where are you?!"

There's a wildness in the boy that has Spock taking a cautious step back, despite knowing that he'll be unharmed in this dream. He looks to be around thirteen and he's all skin and bones. His clothes are caked with mud and blood and his hair is filthy with dirt. His shirt is loose enough that Spock can see the sharp jut of his clavicle beneath his skin.

His eyes meet Spock's and Spock does a double take.

Jim's eyes.

The boy glares at him.

"GET OUT!"

 

* * *

 

"No!"

Jim's thrashing in bed, his face twisted in agony. Spock narrowly avoids a fist to his face. "Jim!" he yells. "Wake up!"

He forgets all about the first rule and grabs Jim's hands to try and still him.

Only to be caught by surprise when Jim's eyes open and Spock's met with a murderous glare. The world turns and he finds himself flat on his back with his right arm pinned beneath him, Jim’s forearm pressing uncomfortably against his throat, his left hand trapped in Jim’s own. His mate is breathing heavily above him, his eyes swimming with fear and anger. Like an animal, trapped. Spock wriggles and manages to dislodge his hand beneath Jim’s but the forearm pressed against his windpipe is a problem and he lets out a choked cough. He would nerve pinch him but the angle is wrong and he could do irreversible damage to Jim's neck.

 _Stop_.

 _Stop_.

Spock lowers the mental barrier between their bond for a brief moment and sends a wave of pain and fear from his side.

_Stop!_

It finally wakes Jim up.

Quickly, he scrambles off Spock, the prey-like fear on his face disappearing and being replaced with confusion, understanding, and then guilt. Spock can feel it in waves banging against the mental barrier. He opens his mouth to try and reassure Jim but all that comes out is a choked noise.

"Spock. Spock I'm so sorry," Jim says, his voice shaking. He sounds near tears and before Spock can even touch him, he's running out of the room, out of Spock's reach once again.


	7. Chapter 7

"I don't think you should see him right now."

Jim's Vulcan—Spock, just stares at him. Bones scowls.

"I said you can't go in yet."

"I understand." But he doesn't budge an inch. And he's still staring. Intensely. Like he intends to drill holes into Bones' skull with his cold blank gaze. Bones' hand drifts to the comm in his pocket, and once again he stops himself. What will Jim say once he wakes up and finds out that Bones can't handle his husband and needed help from Uhura who's probably the only one who genuinely likes this guy's company? He'd laugh, that's for sure.

He's never had a one on one interaction with Spock until now. Spock...he creeps Bones out. Or irritates him. Bones isn't completely sure yet. Uhura told him she finds him endearing. Jim says he thinks he's lonely.

Bones looks at Spock. Spock with his raised eyebrow, and arms folded over his chest. Spock with his creepy staring. Bones looks at Spock and comes up with one word to describe him.

Annoying.

"He's heavily sedated," Bones tries again. Spock is blocking the entrance to Sickbay with his deceptively heavy frame and Bones doesn't have enough of Jim's weird and deceptive strength to drag him back to his quarters. Besides, he'd probably do that creepy neck pinch thing Vulcans do if Bones even tried to touch him. He's seen a kind of irritated look in Spock's eyes whenever non-Jim people accidentally brush against him. Physical contact would definitely not be appreciated.

He's already considering calling security when they hear footsteps coming down the corridor. "Dr McCoy," the captain calls. "Heard about what happened. How's my First Officer?"

"I put him under," Bones says. "He'll be out of it for another five hours." This he says more to Spock than to Pike but Spock's clearly no longer paying attention to him. He's fortunately turned his intense staring to Pike now. There's a subtle shift in the expression in his eyes but Bones has no idea what it means. He doesn't have any idea what Jim means when he says he can easily read what Spock is feeling because all Bones can see is snooty Vulcan.

"He hasn't had an attack like this for a while. I should have known better than to bring him to that meeting with us."

"You know Jim," Bones snorts. "He'd be angrier about not being included and being babied. Too much pride in that damn kid."

"Yes but I need my First Officer fully functioning," Pike sighs. He turns to Spock, granting him a concerned look. "And you, Mr Spock? Were you injured when Jim attacked you?"

"Merely bruised, captain," Spock replies. His eyes flick to Bones. "I—"

"Again, you can't enter."

Spock narrows his eyes at him. There. Finally, Bones thinks not without a little bit of sumgness. A hint of anger. So he isn't emotionless after all.

"That is not what I was about to say," he mutters, petulant. "I wish to know more about Jim's case. I saw his dream. I was in it.

"I do not want the details," Spock interrupts before either of them can argue. "I am aware that Jim will not appreciate it if you are the ones to tell me about his trauma and I want to hear it from him himself. However, I want to know what triggered this dream. I want to help."

Pike shakes his head. "You're a civilian, Mr Spock and this is ship business."

"My mate is my main priority," Spock replies, voice cold. "If the Federation truly values the Vulcan race and its alliance, you will allow me to help ease my mate's pain in any way I can. Or must I remind you of my House's status on Vulcan and how much the Federation values my partnership with Jim? My existence may be a blight to my House but my status and the t'hy'la bond is still highly revered on my planet. The Vulcan council will not be pleased upon hearing that you are keeping me from doing my duty towards Jim."

Bones's jaw drops. He's never heard anyone address Pike like that. Not even Jim, and Jim's practically a son to their captain. He looks at Pike, expecting anger, but to his surprise Pike looks pleased. Even Spock seems taken aback by his reaction.

"I'll see what I can do," Pike assures him.

Spock nods. The confidence he was displaying seconds ago vanishes as fast as it appeared, leaving one meek Vulcan who mumbles a small "Thank you." Then, without another glance at either of them, Spock leaves.

"Any chance I can ask why you look so smug, sir?" Bones asks. With Spock gone, Pike's please expression has turned into a full grin.

"Him," Pike says. "I wasn't expecting that when I first met the boy but I can see it now."

"See what?"

"He'll do extremely well in Starfleet."

* * *

 

When he opens his eyes, Lieutenant Uhura is in front of him. There's a cup of tea in her hand which she transfers to his. Spock feels the stiffness in his fingers as he accepts the cup. How long had he been meditating?

"Research?" she asks casually, jerking her chin to where Spock's experiments lie. He nods.

She purses her lips. "Is this even allowed?"

"Technically, because I have already been doing this experiment before Captain Pike accepted my offer to assist them...it is not against the Starfleet's regulations." He takes a careful sip. Vulcan tea, spiced, just the way he likes it. He tries a small smile that has Uhura beaming back at him, pleased. "Those affected by the food shortage in Starbase 11 will soon be restored to good health. I have already transferred my knowledge to the Enterprise's science and engineering team."

"I know. They're talking about you."

Spock blinks, stunned. He'd assumed Pike wouldn't inform anyone that it was Spock who'd thought of the solution to the Starbase's problem. It had only taken him two hours to solve it, had taken him even less to remove all traces of his identity from the research he'd done so Pike would not be questioned for involving a civilian in Starfleet matters. Yet the captain still credited him.

_Why?_

That does not matter at the moment, a part of his brain, the one connected to his bond, reminds him. You only did it to help Jim.

Jim.

"Am I allowed to see Jim now?"

"Yeah," Uhura says. "He's already up. Has been up for a while now but he didn't want to see you yet. Said he had to get ready."

"…I see."

"I don't know what happened exactly but whatever it is, it's making him feel really guilty so...try and be gentle with him."

She leads him back to Sickbay. Dr McCoy is no longer guarding the entrance, but he's there when Spock enters the room, standing by Jim's bed with a tricorder in one hand. They're arguing.

"I don't want to try a psychiatrist again! It doesn't work for me! It never works!"

"Just one more again, Jim. Starfleet can provide you another therapist—"

"It _never_ works, Bones. I just get angrier whenever they try and analyze me. The best I can do is repress it."

"And it just surfaces again after months! You don't eat, you don't sleep, you become dependent on sleeping pills. Jim, you can't just—" The doctor stops when he catches sight of Spock standing at the threshold. He scowls once again but thankfully doesn't try throwing Spock out again. "You've got a visitor, Jim."

Jim whirls around, eyes wild. He looks awful, eyes bloodshot and hair a mess. Spock takes a careful step forward but Jim's already there to meet him. His hands fly to Spock's biceps, to his throat, gentle brushes of skin against skin. Jim strokes his neck and even with the block he can feel Jim's remorse seeping into his skin.

"I hurt you."

"It was an accident," Spock assures him. "I am three times stronger than you. You merely caught me by surprise."

Jim's brows furrow. Spock wants to smooth it with his thumb, erase Jim's worries with a simple touch. But the doctor is here so he keeps his hand at his side.

"I heard you helped Starbase 11. With the food shortage." Jim's tone is cautious. There's a smile on his face that's too forced to be genuine.

_How much do you know?_

"Yes, I wanted to be of assistance and the research I was already doing was fortunately connected"

"Okay. Okay, good job," he mumbles. He can sense Jim's frustration, just by looking at his body language. Spock thinks about the list Jim made and inwardly sighs.

All of those things are easier said than done.

He wonders if his parents ever had any trouble with communication. Perhaps, not. They were not t'hy'la, not in the way he and Jim are with their katras bound to each other in every universe. And while they had their arguments, Spock had never seen either of them draw away from each other. A younger, more naive Spock had looked at his parents and fantasized about having a bond as open and understanding as what they had.

And in a way he did get it. His bond is practically unbreakable and highly coveted by Vulcan's everywhere. In the technical sense.

If his peers knew exactly how terrible the communication is between him and Jim, they'd scorn them. And perhaps kill them, Spock thinks, remembering their disastrous wedding night. They'd deem them unworthy of being blessed with a t'hy'la bond. A pair who won't even meld are, according to Vulcan law, undeserving of a bond.

He thinks about the Vulcan council and freezes when he remembers the requirement. They'll want reports on his bond with Jim in order to update the records about t'hy'la bonds, about how they should be the ideal pair every Vulcan should aspire to be. They have yet to contact him but Spock believes they will. It's mandatory for bonds, not just bonds like his, to be checked in their first year. For continuous mental stability and compatibility. If the pair fails to satisfy the council, they'll be switched to different partners.

Can they? Spock thinks. Can they separate him from Jim if they're t'hy'la?

_You are barely even a bonded pair right now,_ a nasty voice in his head says. _It will not matter to them even if you are. If you cannot make any contributions to Vulcan society as a bonded pair then where's the logic in keeping you together?_

He doesn't even have the excuse of saying that Jim is too traumatized to properly meld with him. Vulcans do not believe in mental trauma, especially childhood trauma. Of course, they'll barely take Jim's humanity into consideration.

He looks at Jim.

He should give him space.

"We must discuss this," Spock says instead. His eyes flick to where the doctor stands. He's pretending not to listen. But Spock sees the way his body is angled, like he's ready to protect Jim from Spock the moment Spock aggravates him. "Privately."

Jim clenches his jaw. For a moment, Spock thinks he's going to protest but to his relief, Jim nods. His mood darkens even more when they return to their quarters and Spock has to repeatedly assure himself that he has to push Jim if they want to get anywhere.   
He locks the door behind them.

"You must talk to me about this," Spock starts. "You cannot keep pushing me away."

"I haven't even mastered meditating yet," Jim snaps. He runs a hand through his hair, eyes wild. Spock can see them darting back and forth at the exits. "I know you need this but I can't meld with you yet."

"I am not asking for a meld. I want you to talk to me." Spock bites his lip, allowing a slip of vulnerability to show. Jim's rage seems to lessen when he looks at him again. "The fourth rule, Jim. No being immature when discussing our pasts. You yourself wrote it."

"I know—I just—you don't understand what it's like for me."

"How can I when you never discuss anything with me? When you keep running away? You are my mate, my t'hy'la."

"You keep saying that. You and every other Vulcan out there keeps saying we're _destined_ for each other but look at us! Shouldn't this soul mate thing be easy? Even with how fucked up my head is? Shouldn't all my problems just immediately go away when I look at you?"

Spock stares at him.

"What do you feel...when you look at me?"

The simple answer should be love. Perfection. Wholeness. But all Spock ever sees in Jim's eyes whenever he looks at him is camaraderie and protectiveness and the rare primal desire that can come from anyone who thinks him physically attractive. He has never been in love. He is not in love with Jim now, rather he is in love with the idea of him—the perfect mate. He knows, from his mother's eyes and from the way she looked at his father, he knows what love should look like.

He does not get that from Jim. And he's not getting it now. He sees fear.

"I'm afraid you won't like me anymore if I tell you," Jim answers. "Even if the universe did bind us together, you'll eventually hate that you got stuck with me."

Spock looks at the self-pity, the self-loathing in Jim's eyes and sees himself, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Hating his human half, hating his existence. Self-loathing. It's an emotion that he's all too familiar with.

And seeing it in Jim has something in him, pulled taut as a rubber band, finally, finally snap.

"I cannot stand this anymore. You are so determined to keep me away from this when I only have a vague idea of what your past is," Spock hisses. "I need to know. I have a right to know you. All of you."

"Fucking hell—Fucking fuck I'm not ready for this!" Jim yells. His voice is rising with panic.

All we ever do is argue, Spock thinks beneath the anger. _All we ever do in this room is fight each other._

He should not be hurting his mate like this but Jim is giving him little choice. Jim was right with his frustrations.

Why is this bond so difficult?

"I tried to be patient but I cannot continue with this. You never talk to me about your own problems. You isolate me from a past you are so determined to protect me from, but I do not even have the slightest idea as to what I should be keeping away from."

"I'm not ready!"

"When will you be ready? I do not have all the time in the world. It seems that whenever we make progress, you push me away even more. Our bond will inevitably be reviewed by the Vulcan High Council for sustainable compatibility and I do not have all the time in the world to wait, Jim!"

"Why do you care so much about what they say? They tried to kill you! They mistreated you there! Why does their opinion matter?"

"You do not understand how tied to each other Vulcans are. Even with all my faults, my status and actions affect those in my House. This affects people who are important to me."

Jim grits his teeth. Spock can tell that he's winning this argument. 

It's strange. He's never associated the feeling of anger and disgust with one's self to winning. 

"You really want to know?!"

"Yes!"

"I killed people!"

Spock reels back, shocked.

His mind flashes back to Jim's dream. A malnourished blood stained boy running through the fileds. The smell of smoke, the screams in the distance. Sounds of shots being fired.

Food shortage.

"Tarsus IV," Spock breathes, eyes widening in realization. He's heard of the incident. It was always a trick question in school.

_Was Kodos's decision to order the execution of half the population logical?_

Logical, yes. Moral, no.

_Logical_ , Spock who had never learned true hunger, who was privileged and affluent in Vulcan, had written once.

"You were a victim," Spock tries, shaken by the realization that Jim was involved. That Tarsus IV, once just a question in his learning PADD, has become frighteningly real before him. That he'd answered all those questions so casually, so callously, and Jim. Jim _lived_  it.

"It was self defense."

"No, not the soldiers. Not Kodos' men. I'll never regret killing them." Jim's voice shakes. "Kids, Spock. I killed kids.

"When—when Kodos ordered the massacre his soldiers ordered the kids who'd survive to round up kids who were going to be sent to their deaths. And—and if we did well we'd be rewarded with food—and if we failed we'd get nothing and we'd get beaten and—I just—For the first three days I wasn't thinking. I was just so hungry, all my morals flew out the window, all I could think about was the reward and about how I didn't want them to hurt me again. All I could think about was food. I killed kids. Tricked them into thinking they were safe then shot them and—and when things got real bad, when we couldn't tell anymore who was supposed to live and who wasn't—I stopped shooting and ran off with a group of people my age but still I didn't stop killing. Because we didn't know about the rescue operation so we ended up poisoning the younger kids because. Because it seemed like a better alternative than being caught by the soldiers or by people desperate enough to—to turn to human flesh."

He has nothing to say to that. There seems to be no language in the universe capable of translating the emotions rolling in the pit of his stomach. Spock stares at him helplessly.

"See?" Jim laughs but there's no humor in it. He's crying and Spock knows he ought to go to him, tuck Jim in his arms and keep him safe. But he stays where he is, frozen in place by the truth and by Jim's grief.

"See, Spock? You got tied to a monster."

* * *

He's troubled. Pike's gotten good at reading him and with Spock so young for a Vulcan, just twenty-three in Terran years, he's still not as good at being as stoic as he likes to think. He sits before Pike like a schoolboy brought to detention, hands clasped over his lap so tightly Pike can see the skin over his knuckles have turned white.

"I take it Jim told you about Tarsus?"

He gets Spock's attention at that. The boy's eyes widen. "Affirmative," he says. "Did he also tell you about his traumatic experiences?"

"He didn't have to," Pike says grimly. "I got him out myself. Him and seven other survivors. They were so young. It was a nightmare—I couldn't sleep for weeks, even after we'd gotten in contact with their families and made sure they were getting the best care."

Spock's eyes fall to his clasped hands. "He referred to himself as a monster."

"Jim lives with a lot of survivor's guilt," Pike sighs. "I know about what he did to survive and I don't judge him for it. It doesn't matter how many times anyone tells Jim that it wasn't his fault and that he was too young and too hurt to make moral decisions. He keeps wanting to repent for sins no one even blames him for.

"I'm friends with his mother and was friends with his dad before George passed away so when I found out it was their kid who I'd pulled out of that mess, I was determined to look after him. Winona...I think she couldn't handle the guilt of leaving Jim at Tarsus IV while she was serving and she shut off. And Jim lashed out. He was so angry and hurt and kept getting into fights and skipping therapist appointments. It took me months to even talk to him for more than five minutes because he kept running away to cause more trouble."

Spock nods, contemplating. "How did he end up at Starfleet?"

"I told him there are still a lot of people out there like Kodos and that Starfleet is there to stop them. Protect kids from going through what he did. The moment I said that, Jim showed up at my doorstep and asked for help in enrolling in Starfleet, nevermind that he was only fifteen and a year too young for the Academy's requirement. He kept bugging me as well, said he didn't want to wait a year, so I explained things to the brass and they told me that if Jim managed to score at least 90% on the entrance exam, they'd consider it. And that boy..." Pike chuckles softly. "He got a perfect score then told everyone he can do a fast track and finish his studies within three years. Which he did. He's stubborn, that kid."

Kind of like you, Pike thinks as he looks at Spock.

"Why does he insist on going on missions that remind him of Tarsus IV?"

Pike shrugs. "He hates it but he'd rather suffer for it later than let people get hurt by not helping. That's just who Jim is."

"Illogical," Spock mutters and Pike wants to laugh. He sounds like Jim. "But admirable."

"But Jim isn't why I called you here," Pike says. Immediately, Spock tenses even more. Pike catches a fraction of wariness in his eyes before Spock manages to control himself and reign in his emotions.

"Why then?"

"You know I credited you for your help in Starbase 11. I talked to Starfleet and a lot of them agreed on one thing: they'd like to have you enroll in the Academy."

Spock blinks. "But...I am a Vulcan citizen. We are not yet officially part of the Federation, not until the annual conference, and Starfleet is only open to Federation citizens."

They aren't rejections, Pike notes. And he might be imagining it a bit but he thinks he can see a bit of hope in Spock's eyes.

"Yes, but they agreed to have you enroll early, anyway. They think you're brilliant and that you'll make even more contributions that will help Starfleet and let's be honest here. We've been wanting Vulcans to join Starfleet since it was established."

He holds a hand up when Spock opens his mouth to protest. "I know term's already started but since you received a Vulcan education, a lot of your science classes will already be credited. You can probably finish your track as fast Jim did or maybe even faster, depending on how determined you are."

"I...I do not even know how to enroll or what the requirements are."

"I'll help you with that," Pike quickly replies. "Before I became captain, I was recruiting people from all the over the place to join. I know potential when I see it and I can clearly see it in you. Jim can help you."

Spock ducks his head. "Jim is currently angry with me. I have doubts that he'll assist me on this."

"You just have to wait for him to cool down," Pike assures. "Jim loves Starfleet and he wants it to improve. And he likes you—no, don't give me that look. I know he likes you. Boy's a workaholic but he still tries to make time for you. If I tell him you'll do great in it, he won't hesitate to help you enroll."

"If I attend classes I will barely see Jim. My duty is to my mate. And according to Vulcan custom I must dedicate my time into guiding him in our bond, at least until he is comfortable with it."

"I'm positive that he'll hate that you're holding back for his sake. And you can do it at the same time. Be close to each other and focus on your studies. We'll be docking soon and I'm telling you that on Earth, Jim will have less duties there than when he's here but he'll still be busy because he'll be going back and forth the Academy and headquarters. And where does that leave you? You're already bored out of your mind here. You'll be even more bored on Earth when you're just waiting around for Jim."

"May I think about it?"

"Of course."

* * *

_ He hates me now. He hates me. He thinks I'm disgusting. He thinks I'm a monster. _

_All I ever do is get mad at him and yell at him. Why am I so toxic._

_He pushed you._

_He only wanted to help!_

He lands his fist one last time on the punching bag, feeling the force of it ring through his arm. His shoulders are screaming in pain and his fingers are stiff in their gloves but still he doesn't feel any better. Jim rips the boxing gloves off his hands and tosses them away.

"Jim."

Jim closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His heart is racing.

"Spock. How'd you find me?"

"Ship's computer."

"Right."

He opens his eyes, expecting fear and anger in Spock's face. But all he sees is remorse, fully displayed without Spock's Vulcan mask to soften the blow. Jim's breath catches.

"I apologize," Spock says quietly. "For pushing you when you were not yet ready."

"It's okay," Jim lies. He folds his arms over his chest, tries to will his heartbeat to slow down. It doesn't work. He's not looking at Spock when he asks, "So...what do you think? Of me I mean. Now that you know."

"I stand by what I said that you were a victim. You are not a monster."

Jim shakes his head. "Then why do I feel like I am?"

Spock takes a step forward. And another. And another until he's close enough for Jim to touch. His hand falls on Jim's wrist.

"Because you are so convinced that you are and that no one is willing to understand your situation. I do not despise you for your past. I am not afraid of you.

"You asked me what it means to be t'hy'la. I myself I have yet to fully understand what it means and there are no guides for what we have. But I believe that to be t'hy'la is to be open to each other. To help each other in our troubles. It means that I will not leave you to handle this alone.

"I can never be afraid of you. What I fear is that I will never know how to reach you."

_I don't want you to. I never want you to_.

The old fear rising in him, lodging in his throat and threateningly to choke him. He takes a shaky breath and feels cold fear wash over his entire body. He shudders.

And then, he pushes it all aside.

"Meld with me."

Spock blinks, startled. His eyebrows rise so high that Jim almost laughs. "But you said—"

"I know, but it's now or never."

He grabs Spock's hand and places it on his temple. "Please," he says. "Before I run away again."

* * *

He's running through the fields again.

The ground is wet and he slips and falls down more than once but Jim doesn't dare stop longer than a few seconds to recover. It hasn't rained in Tarsus IV for a month. There's no possibility of mud, not this far away from the center.

It's blood. The scent of it hangs heavy in the air. Sharp and metallic, mixed with smell of bodies rotting in the heat. He keeps a hand over his mouth and tries not to gag as he makes his way. None of the others wanted to go through the field but it's the safest way to sneak in and out of the center to steal food. No one ever checks the graveyard.

Their meeting place is the tree at the end of the field. They'll have to find a new one, Jim thinks. They saw a hovercar pass by three days ago and Jim doesn't doubt they're checking for more survivors.

He's so tired. And hungry. The bag slung over his shoulder is weighing him down and his perpetually hungry stomach keeps telling him that it will weigh less if he just eats one of the canned foods. But Jim doesn't dare do it. There are people who are hungrier and Jim knows that the moment he opens one can here, without any of the other kids to stop him, he'll keep eating and eating until there's no more food left.

There are people who need it more. People who actually deserve to be fed.

When he gets to the tree, he finds him.

A boy, close to his age, standing beneath the tree like he's been waiting for Jim this entire time. The boy comes forward, slowly, the way you'd approach a spooked animal. But Jim feels no fear as he comes closer. The boy is watching him carefully, and the concern in his dark eyes makes Jim want to cry with relief.

I know you, he thinks wildly. I know you. Help me. Please.

The boy touches his face with one hand, slides his fingers down his features carefully, like he's memorizing him through touch.

"Jim."

"Spock," he says.

He leans into the boy's touch and closes his eyes. Affection, not his own, seeps into his skin, warming him down to his bones.

For the first time in weeks, he is calm.

 


End file.
